Back to the Labyrinth
by westendwordsmith
Summary: The king is after that bit of magic he once gave Sarah Williams, little does he know he'll need the girl too if he is to better his kingdom. Edit to fit guidelines. Full, adult version available on my website 18 years and older only. Link in profile.
1. DisclaimerPrologue

**DISCLAIMER/PROLOGUE**

All characters contained herein which were formerly introduced in either the novel, _Labyrinth_, written by A.C.H. Smith or the movie of the same name created by Jim Henson and produced by George Lucas remain the property of the aforementioned. All newly developed characters, as well as the plot line, remain the sole property of the writer and may not be used without her permission, in any way, in any other work of fiction. Much appreciation is given to the aforementioned for allowing the idea fo the characters to be "borrowed" and embellished.

No offense is intended to any nationality, religion, sex, creed, race or sexual preference.

While it is not necessary to be as addicted to the _Labyrinth_ as the writer has been, a general knowledge of either the book or the movie may be extremely helpful to those reading this novel.

The following is a complete work of fan fiction written as a tribute to what has been one of my favorite films since my formative preteen years. No profit is being made from this endeavor nor is any copyright infringement intended.

In _Back to the Labyrinth_ we pick up some 15 years after Sarah's encounter with the Goblin King. We open as she faces her 30th birthday dissatisfied with her personal and professional life and waging a mental war between the life she wants and the life she once imagined. In an attempt to utilize the advice a wiseman (literally) once gave her - "the way forward is also the way back" - she requests a visit from a very important friend from her youth. Much has changed in the labyrinth and much is yet to change as another careless wish stemmed from emotion sets Sarah out to make amends and takes her back to the mythical, magical land of her dreams on a journey of self discovery and awareness that prepares her for challenges she never thought she'd face above and under ground. She finds new friends and some old ones and discovers real happiness in them and within herself. As ever, what would a Labyrinth fan fiction be if Jareth didn't make an appearance. He's got some adventuring of his own to do, like navigation he way through New York City without his magic and opening up a heart that's been closed since he watched love cost his parents their lives.

It is my sincere hope that you will retrieve as much pleasure form reading my words as I did setting them to paper.

Fantasy/Romance rated Adult for language, sensuality, adult topics and subject matter (mostly in later chapters).


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE - THIRTY**

Sarah Williams let the rich blackness of the room envelope her. No one could see that her simulated smile had melted into a smirk of regret and resentment. For a moment she thought of running out, under the cover of night they'd invited indoors, but she stayed. The coolness of the dark soothed her like a lullaby. Her feet shuffled as her memory played a tune that made her sway secure in the knowledge that she was surrounded by eyes which could not see. A flicker caught her interest, an amber glow comprised of tiny lights organized in a perfectly circular pattern threatening to disrupt her euphoria. She shut her eyes and focused on the music playing in her memory only to find her reverie impregnated by the poorly coordinated and significantly off key collaboration of what were supposed to be talented musicians.

"Happy Birthday, dear Sarah! Happy Birthday to you!" the voices stung more than they rang really and Sarah winced in the glow of the 30 flames thrust beneath her nose.

Christian Standyne, Sarah's companion of three years and former co-star from an off Broadway production of CATS, leaned into her right side and whispered, "Make a wish."

She contemplated the hilarity of a grown man making such a demand as she hung her head and proclaimed, "I don't make wishes," a thought of Toby crossed her mind, "not since I was a very young and foolish girl." Her lips pursed and she exhaled, long, slow and deliberate. Each of the flames surrendered, as though Sarah squelched them with her proclamation that wishes were not comprised of the magic that gave birthday candles their glow, but rather a senseless endeavor reserved for children or imbeciles.

The lights in the room came up as quickly as the candles on the cake had gone out, as quickly as the last thirty years had passed. Rich blackness was cruelly replaced by 100 watts of soft white. Sarah sighed, the light really wasn't soft and it was more yellow than white, truthfully. Life was so polluted by little lies that everyone accepted. She closed her eyes in an effort to make the adjustment easier, but even closed tightly, there was that yellowish spot still clinging in her vision.

Cheers and whistles filled her ears making her feel obligated to re-open her eyes and don her phony smile once more. Before she had time to read the message on the cake, a knife was thrust into her hand and she was instructed to begin cutting. A second voice urged her to make yet another wish. Sarah felt like screaming. 'Didn't your parents tell you about Santa Claus, didn't they explain the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny? Do you still pick up pennies from the side walk? Do you knock on wood to protect yourself from the evils your own big mouth spits out? Do you still make wishes? And worse yet, do you honestly believe that they come true?' Instead, she cut through the double layer of soft white cake, covered in white silk frosting and separated by a raspberry filling. "Who wants the first slice?" she inquired.

The last of the goodbyes had been said. The last of the guests had gone. The last of the dishes had been loaded into the dishwasher. Christian pushed a few buttons and turned the dial as it began a barely noticeable cycle, no more than a hum in the background. He drew two mugs from the cabinet above the coffee maker, which had just finished brewing. He filled both of them with the steaming black beverage and smiled contentedly to himself as he brought them into the living room. Taking a seat on the couch next to Sarah, he offered her the mug from his left hand. She smiled back weakly, appreciative of the effort, but continuously amazed that Christian failed to remember she preferred tea. Even on the rare occasions when she did drink coffee, she had to deaden its bitterness with copious amounts of milk or cream.

"Did you enjoy your party?"

"Yes Christian," she half lied. She'd enjoyed the cake. Without the party there'd have been no cake and so to some degree she must have enjoyed the party. Still, it seemed silly having everyone gather around to celebrate an event that made her feel more miserable than anything, but their intent had been good.

Christian smiled at his success in pulling off the surprise and in pleasing Sarah, or so he believed. "There are more surprises in store for you Sarah Williams."

'Dear God. No.' she thought. Anymore surprises like today and she vowed she'd pack up everything precious to her and move away to Siberia. She lifted the mug from her lap to her lips, realizing it was black coffee and praying it would somehow morph into something stronger, like a whiskey sour maybe. Dissatisfied, she swallowed hard, "really?"

Intent hands grabbed the mug from hers and set it on the coffee table. Christian reached passed her to the end table for a remote. He fumbled with remotes for the television, the VCR, the cable box and a host of other electronic what-nots, finally locating the control for the stereo. A few button presses later the sound of Alphaville's 'Forever Young' began to fill the room around them. It was a song Sarah loved, but she couldn't help thinking how drastically inappropriate it was given the feelings about youth welling up inside her. The lyric's of the song mocked her. Sarah couldn't help wondering what all this was leading up to.

"Dance with me?" Christian requested as he reached out for her hand.

She gave it to him mindlessly permitting him to help lift her off the couch. With a grin on his lips, he guided her around to an open area that had been intended to be used as a dining room. Instead, the couple had purchased a breakfast table for the kitchen, using the free space for rehearsing scenes. His arms engulfed her waist and pulled her close, in turn, her forearms rested on his shoulders, her fingers mangled in a few strands of wavy blonde hair. 'Christ,' she thought. Even three years Sarah's senior, he looked so young. Even when he allowed his facial hair to grow, it was baby soft and blonde, so blonde it blended with his skin so that it became almost indistinguishable. 'People probably wonder if I'm his mother, well, at least an older aunt.'

"Sarah?"

"Yes Christian."

"Are you alright? You seem a million miles away."

In some respect she was. She'd been wallowing in her own self pity, consumed with the thought that growing up was little more than growing old and annoyed with the fact that the world around her lost its mystery. "I'm sorry. I suppose I'm still overwhelmed from the party," she lied.

Her partner smiled again, curling his lips in a way that made him seem cocky. His head bent slightly so that his lips could make a grab for hers. Softly he kissed the woman in his arms and instinctively she reciprocated. Her eyes closed, but rather than leaning into his kiss and using her energies to concentrate on how it felt to taste his mouth with her own, she fell into another day dream. The music in her head conflicted with the music in her ears, making her feel like she was swimming more than swaying. "Though we were strangers till now, we're choosing a path between the stars." a familiar voice sang. She opened her eyes, which met with Christian's immediately. For some reason that wasn't clear to her, things didn't seem right suddenly. This was how teenagers danced. He should have been holding her properly and gliding her about the floor, not pushing her back and forth, his hands resting on her backside as though she hadn't noticed their migration. The music too, was all wrong, and who on earth kissed with their eyes open. She gave Christian a gentle shove back, breaking their kiss. Stumbling back, Christian caught his balance and smiled devilishly down at his girlfriend. "I have something for you," he said, lifting her chin with his left index finger. "Close your eyes."

Sarah complied. There was that damnable music again, making her want to keep her eyes closed and get lost in its gypsy rhythms. "Falling. Falling. Falling." And that voice, this time it wasn't singing. This time it offered her things, promised her dreams, but not for a ordinary girl that takes care of a screaming baby. Her hands reached up almost involuntarily. She gasped.

"Don't jump darling," Christian soothed, placing a small box in her extended hands. "Okay, open your eyes."

Though she was shaken, Sarah managed to fulfill his requests a second time. A fair amount of blinking later, she was able to make out the small box, tooled in red leather, he had placed in her hand. Where had she seen that shade of leather before? She shook it off. "Christian, is this a,"

Before she could complete her inquiry, he interrupted, "Just open it."

Quaking she held the box in the palm of her left hand as she worked its hinged lid with the right. Another series of thoughts streamed though her mind. What would she say? Yes. No. I really need some time to think this over. Or maybe he'd do something terribly romantic. Would he drop to one knee and express his undying love for her, or perhaps, tug at her heart strings with something even more sincere, like his world tumbling down were she to deny him? It all seemed very unlike Christian to do any of those things. For all the effort she was putting into lifting that lid, it may as well have been a giant, wooden, castle door on old, rusted, metal hinges. Then with a creak and a snap, the lid was perpendicular to its base and between two red velvet folds, sat a golden band, filigree, with a green gem chip glittering back at her.

The smile on Christian's face parted as he pointed out, "It's just like your mother's. The one you're always regretting having given away."

"My mother's ring had a red gem."

"Red, green, what's the big deal?" The wicked smirk from earlier was making a repeat performance. He was actually proud, proud that he'd screwed it up. "Honestly Sarah, I get so tired of trying to live up to your expectations of me."

Where had she heard that before? "It's lovely Christian. Thank you." Sarah struggled with the words, trying not to sound ungrateful or to reveal that she thought this box might have contained a little something else. Something more along the lines of a diamond. After all, they'd spent three years together, one and a half of them in the same apartment, the same bed. What was she supposed to think? That they'd just go steady and maybe some day she'd get to wear his letterman's jacket?

Almost brutally, he forced the ring over the second knuckle of the ring finger on her right hand. It didn't seem to fit quite so uncomfortably once it made it passed her knuckle. He reached for her again, pulling her to him. His mouth covered hers before she could object. Anxious fingers worked at the zipper on the back of her dress as he moaned her name almost breathless, "Come on, let's do it." A few more desperate clicks of the remote and the stereo sputtered off. Christian led her to their bedroom, removing his shirt in route.

It would be just like any other time they'd 'done it', though it had been much less frequent recently. The lights would go out, Christian would do all those things to her body and his own which he'd deemed satisfying. Sarah, instead, would fantasize about all those things that brought her pleasure. A bit of arching and gratuitous cries of praise, then she'd wait out his orgasm and her obligations would be complete until the next time. The sexual relationship shared between them was less than fulfilling, but there were other things, things that made Christian a good catch, even if Sarah couldn't think of any of them right now. Right now, Sarah couldn't think of anything.

2:13am. Blue lights formed the digits just inches from Sarah's eyes. All the clocks she owned were digital display: the alarm clock, the stereo, the microwave, even her watch. Clock faces bothered her. She'd never told anyone why. In the dark, Sarah was entranced by the numbers. The way they joined at perfectly fit together corners, but still seemed rounded. "But that can't be." She whispered.

"Sometimes things are not always as they seem," a voice in her head commented.

Glancing over at Christian, who was still asleep, Sarah couldn't help but wonder what she had let become of her life. Straight out of high school, she'd left the home she shared with her father, step-mother and half-brother to attend Julliard, in the hopes of following in her mother's footsteps. She wanted to become a star, maybe fall in love with one of her male leads and have him whisk her away, the same way Linda had been led away from home and family. Led by a man who knew how to use romance like a lethal weapon. Somewhere along the way Sarah had managed to fall for the first understudy she'd ever seen make it to stage on an opening night. Those fleeting three seconds of charm that existed in Christian came to his surface at just the right time and disappeared all too fast. Still, she stayed with him. Maybe she hoped he would change. Maybe it was just better than being alone.

An absent finger trolled through the locks of his hair, pushing them back from his eyes. Sometimes she could still find that charm when he was sleeping, but morning would come and his mouth would open up putting a quick end to the warm feelings she had for him. He put a certain bind on her in many respects. Their friends were his friends. What had once been her friends, had abandoned her when despite their advice, she moved in with him anyway. No longer did Sarah audition for the lead roles, the challenging parts she knew she could bring to life, because Christian didn't want his woman bringing home any more bacon than he could. He was unadventurous with art, with food, with travel and especially with sex. What had once been the creative open mind of an artist was rapidly becoming the cynical, sarcastic soul of a slave.

She'd dated, after a little provocation from her stepmother, but really this had been her first long-term, adult, if you could use that word in connection with Christian, relationship. No, that's not true. Once long ago, in a realm she'd invented in her mind, she had been loved by another man. Pity was she was too young to return his love then. Now, at this age, such dreams could not sustain her. Yet Sarah never found someone who had intrigued her as much as he had, who both frightened and excited her. Then again, in many ways, the man of her fantasies was much like Christian. He loved in his own kind of way. He wanted to control. He wanted to possess, even if his emotions were real and his intentions good. Maybe that's why she stayed with this man who lie beside her, for that faint reminder.

Releasing a heavy sigh, the defeated actress threw back the blankets and slipped her feet into the slippers which waited for her on the floor. She plucked her robe from the back of the door and slid her naked body inside, tying the belt. The silk was cold on her body, but warmer than that bed had seemed only hours earlier. Quietly as she could, she opened the top right drawer of her old dressing table. She'd kept it when she had left home. She was only 18 and wanted something familiar around her. No, that wasn't entirely true. As a girl she would summon her imaginary friends in the looking glass, they would come and comfort her in times of trouble or loneliness. They were more reliable than any of her friends from school and certainly more considerate than her parents. The dressing table no longer matched any of her furniture making it all the more special. For Sarah no longer felt as though she matched her surroundings either. Her small hands wrapped around something inside the drawer and drew it out fluidly, quickly shoving the object deep in the pocket of her robe. One last turn to assure that Christian remained asleep and she slipped out of the bedroom they shared. Well, that she had wanted them to share, but it never really felt that way.

Early fall had brought the full moon with it, casting silver light into the room. Sarah followed a metallic beam to the sofa and settled into the far corner, an end table supporting a small lamp was at her back. She reached around and gave the knob two quick snaps and the light shone over her shoulders. Still chilly, she pulled the throw from the back of the sofa over her legs, brought her knees to her chest and dug in her pocket for the item she had placed there only moments earlier. Her fingers ran over the red leather, tracing the Celtic knots which formed a border around the edge of the book, Labyrinth.

"This is ridiculous," she said to no one, tossing the book onto the coffee table at her side. It was nothing more than an adolescent fantasy. A way for her to escape her home, escape herself, to find magic and romance. Instead, she'd learned that you couldn't run, not from others, not from yourself. She learned to stand strong, pick her battles, ripple the water only when it was necessary. Magic and romance were tricks of light, simple words repeated in the appropriate sequence. Most of the time without any feeling behind them. After all, words were meager, anyone could say them. They could fall from lips as rain from the sky. Often going unnoticed or unappreciated.

Frustrated, she reached for the control, using it to bring the television to life. Fruitlessly she scanned for something, anything that would remotely hold her attention. To her great dismay, she found nothing. Nothing that is to say that intrigued her more than the four by five red leather novelette which shown murky black in the basking of light which randomly changed intensity as they radiated from the television set. She grabbed at it, sighing heavily at her own childishness

After all, it had been a dream. Hadn't it? A day dream, in the night time? Then a nightmare. But somehow, she didn't remember being frightened, not the entire time anyway. She remembered Ludo and Didymus, and of course Hoggle. Much as it frustrated her, she remembered Jareth too, cruel as he was. He and his mismatched eyes managed to penetrate and seed themselves into her memory. Could anybody dream so vividly? Dream well enough that she could recall the awful smell from the bog of stench. That she could remember the taste of a magic peach so clearly it had turned her from the fruit entirely. That her body would sometimes recollect Jareth's arms encircling her waist. That her mind was still mesmerized by the fluid movements of his hands as they manipulated the spinning crystals before her eyes. It was a dream she decided, one she fed with her imagination, but it had seemed so damned real.

Frantically, she began to flip the pages of the book. If it was real, then she'd find a way to conjure them again. Some way to prove these impossible notions could be tactile. But how? She had no child to wish away. She tried a string of magic words from her childhood. Hocus pocus. Abracadabra. Alacazam. "For Christ's sake I need help," she noted, running one hand through her thick dark hair, which she'd kept long, even all these years later. She found she could do more with it when it was long. Made her more versatile when it came to the stage and increased the number of roles available to her. The Goblin King had liked it long, she thought. When he had dressed her for their masquerade he had left it long, pulled up at the sides giving it a little more fullness and body, but it had still hung down her back. In fact, she swore she'd felt him rest his glove covered fingers in the strands. "I really do need help."

Her memory was working overtime. Help. In the Labyrinth, Sarah had been helped by so many new friends, but none who risked as much as Hoggle. She glanced around the room. "What the hell?" Sarah conceded. No one was there to see her acting foolish. If only she could remember how she had called them as a child. "I wish," it had been so long since her mouth had used that word, it almost seemed wrong, at least foreign, "I wish I could see Hoggle."

Sarah's eyes closed tight. Afraid the tunic topped, leather head cap wearing dwarf would really appear before her. Seconds later, she opened her eyes and to her relief, or perhaps disappointment, she remained alone. "Rubbish!" Feeling moronic, she cast the book down again. "I was a child the last time I let my overactive imagination run away with me like this. I sat before that mirror in my room each time my step-mother had inflicted another of her emotional wounds on me. I'd read that book three dozen times and to a fifteen year old girl who wanted nothing more than to escape reality, it became reality. Then when I found myself wishing that I could relive some adventure I had never lived in the first place, I would peer into the glass and say, 'I need you Hoggle.'" Sarah's hand caught her head as it toppled over forward, the palms grinding at her tired, but not sleepy eyes. "I even talked to the little thing. Oh, why didn't my father have me locked up?"

"I resent that now. You said we was friends."

At first Sarah's head didn't move from its folded over position. She stayed there tucked in a ball trying to ignore what she had heard.

"Sarah?" A small and tender voice continued. "Are you alright? You haven't called on me in a long time you know."

It seemed to take hours, but Sarah managed to straighten her neck and raise her head to meet the big blue eyes that stared intently at her. She reached forward for his shoulders. "Hoggle?" Her hands tightened on his body. "You're real."

"I am." He was still wearing a mixture of hurt and confusion in his face. "As real as I have always been."

Hoggle found himself pulled to Sarah's chest. Her long arms folding around him in a warm embrace. Tears filled her eyes and emotion choked up in her throat. "Hoggle," she repeated. "I'm sorry, so sorry that I haven't kept in better touch."

The dwarf tried to speak to her, but her grasp was tight. Upon hearing him choke, she released her grip and he stood back, straightening his cap and vest. "S'got nothin' to do with keepin' in touch and you know it as well as I do. You gave up your dreams, your wishes. You stopped believin' in magic." He rolled his eyes and snorted, crossing his arms around his chest defensively.

"I...I didn't want...I didn't mean..."

"Save your excuses. I'd have paid you a visit on my own if I coulda." Hoggle released his posture some, beginning to feel somewhat responsible for the break in their relationship. "There's no taxi out of the Underground you know. I needed you to believe in magic. It was my only way to you."

"What about the mirror?" she asked.

"The mirror," Hoggle waved his hand as if to say the object were useless. "The mirror was an easy way to explain magic to a child without having to explain anything at all. The real magic's in you Sarah." He pointed at her, "Always has been."

Sarah's eyes were no longer strong enough to hold back the tears she'd been damming up inside them. Freely, they fell down her cheeks over her chin. She tried to wipe them away, but her hands were too slow to keep up. Hoggle plucked a tissue from the box on the table and passed it to her. "I'm more sorry than I can tell you, honestly, I am"

Anger was not what he wanted to share with his friend after all these years. His chubby fingers and stalky legs worked together desperately to scuttle up on the couch next to the hysterical Sarah. As he brought her head to his shoulder, he ran his hands over her hair smoothing it. "It's all right then," Hoggle said. "I forgive you."

"I thought I was losing my mind, that I'd imagined everything," she confessed.

"I can see why you might have wanted to Sarah. It wasn't all that pleasant an experience for you." Hoggle looked away remembering how Jareth had forced him to give her that peach.

"Nonsense!" Sarah said, perhaps a bit to loud and eagerly. She moved in closer to Hoggle and lowered her voice. "Nonsense. I made so many great friends while I was there. Ludo and Didymus. Ambrosious and that charming little worm with the English accent."

He smiled at her. For the first time since he'd arrived, he was just now noticing how beautiful she had become. Something in her eyes was electric and curious. She had grown, from a selfish, thoughtless child into a loving young woman whose emotions were so easily read. He'd bet they were as easily hurt. Knowing her as he had, he felt confident that someone had been responsible for quenching her magic and quelling her belief. The Sarah he had known would have kept those two things too sacred to be destroyed.

He wanted to tell her so much, about her friends, about the Underground, but he decided that he was too uncertain what she'd want to know and what would only serve to upset her more. He knew one thing undoubtedly. There was a bit of news he needed to deliver now, something he had waited so long to tell her and Hoggle was afraid this might be his only opportunity. "Speaking of your friends, I've got someone to introduce you to." Sarah sat up straighter, eager for him to continue. He dug in the pocket of his pants and produced a worn leather wallet stitched out of scraps. Opening its folds, he revealed a picture of a woman dwarf who held a child in her arms. The child wore a long off white gown.

Needless to say he had peaked her curiosity by exposing the photograph. There was something familiar in the infant's face. "Hoggle, is that your baby?"

Hoggle nodded, a wide grin of pride making all his teeth show.

"When did you get married?" Sarah cocked an eyebrow at her confidant, but beneath her smile lie a sadness. Hoggle had saved her in the Labyrinth many times. Freed her from the oubliette, rescued her from the fire gang, did his best to get her to the castle so she could rescue her baby brother. Now he was a husband, a father and she hadn't been there for any of it. Instead, she'd forgotten everything he'd meant to her and went along with her own life and her own priorities which hadn't brought her a quarter of the joy she felt now, holding this picture in her hands and seeing the look on his face.

Lying his head on his shoulder, Hoggle ground his toes into the air, like a small child who was embarrassed to admit to something. "I am 243, you know. Figured it was bout time I let some pretty girl settle me down." His finger pointed to the woman in the photograph, "That's my wife, Drema, and that's my daughter," he said. He paused until he could catch Sarah's gaze and then repeated, "my daughter Sarah."

Confusion swept her face and she looked on, unsure if he was referring to her or the child. Then something in the way his eyes softened, confirmed it for her. "After me?"

"Who else? Sarah ain't much of an Underground name you know." Realizing that he had sounded a bit harsh he went on, "You were my first friend, Sarah. I was proud for my girl to share your name. Drema agreed too. She's waited years to meet you."

"Oh yes, Hoggle. I would love to meet your wife." She folded the wallet in her hand and passed it back to her friend, "and your daughter."

The dwarf's expression grew solemn. "That's sweet, but it'll never happen."

Hurt, feeling like he doubted her promise, Sarah said, as sincerely as she could, "No Hoggle. I mean it. Now that I've remembered what to say. Now that you've taught me how to believe. I'll call on you again and you can bring Drema with you through the mirror and little Sarah."

"So much you don't understand about your magic Sarah. Tonight, did you see me come through your mirror? No." His head wagged back and forth.

"What do you mean?"

"You don't need Drema." Emphasizing the word need, Hoggle continued, "You can only summon those of us you swore you needed. The words spoken outside the castle that day, theys the same as casting a spell. Means you can only call on those of us inside the Labyrinth you vowed to that day."

It seemed simple and difficult at the same time. "So then I'll just go to the Underground."

"You can't, not without a crystal."

"So bring me a crystal."

Hoggle grunted in frustration, "Jareth would soon as cut my arm off and make me bob it out of the bog of stench if he knew I stoled one of his crystals, 'specially for you."

Jareth. The name made something click in Sarah's head. It had been his mysterious voice singing to her earlier this night. His grasp she had longed for as she danced with Christian. His finesse on the dance floor she'd been recalling. "So have him summon me to the Underground," she said smugly. She had defeated him once, now she was older, stronger and she could defeat him again.

The far away look in her eyes did not go unnoticed. From a pouch on his hip he produced a steaming hot cup of tea. "Drink this Sarah. You'll feel better."

Weeping eyes looked at him. Someone she had known for so little time and had neglected for so long and he knew her preferences. Sarah accepted the beverage and meant to say thank you, but the sobs that had begun again prevented her from being as courteous as she might have liked.

"Oh please Sarah, don't cry. I can't stands to see a girl cry. How a'my gonna describe you to Drema when I get home and can't even tell her the color of your eyes? Why she'll think I'm makin' excuses to go out and spray for those damn fairies again."

She sipped at the tea. Suddenly the memory of how they first met came flooding back to Sarah forcing a smile. Hoggle had been just outside the door to the Labyrinth. He looked up at her and announced very matter-of-factly, 'Oh it's you.' Like he had somehow anticipated her arrival. The more she tried to recall the more her smile grew. Sarah always loved to act and she had often acted out the Labyrinth, but in the Labyrinth she was no longer a character brought to life, quite the contrary, she felt herself. It was more than she could say about life here with Christian. Sometimes she felt as though she hadn't left the stage in days. Her eyes started to go grey again and her smile faded.

Hoggle jumped down from the couch. A wave of his hand made the tea cup disappear from Sarah's grip and he pulled one of her hands into his own. "Jareth can't summon you back to the Labyrinth and don't bother asking me why either."

As Hoggle spoke, Sarah repositioned herself on the sofa with a yawn. For a moment, worry crossed her face. Things seemed to dance, just like when she'd eaten the peach. Sensing this Hoggle reassured her, "It's just the chamomile I put in yer tea. You need to sleep, you need to dream, to reignite yer magic and strengthen yer belief." He pulled the blanket closer to her shoulder. "I'll be back, my friend, any time you need me."

"What do you mean reignite my magic?"

The dwarf crossed his arms over his chest and huffed a bit, "You've forgotten so much already." He handed her the open book, a stumpy finger pointed to one of the first lines, "What's it say right there?"

Slowly Sarah repeated the line, "But what no one knew was that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl and he had given her certain powers."

"You've got magic in you Sarah, always have. You just haven't learned to use it's all."

"Can you teach me?"

Hoggle smiled gently at her, bringing the blanket up to her ears. "Not tonight. Tonight you need to rest. Now stop fighting the tea. I ain't singin' any lullabies, either."

"Thank you Hoggle."

He turned off the television and lamp before preparing to leave.

"Goodnight Hoggle." Sarah whispered, a sleepy haze taking her over.

"Goodnight Sarah," Hoggle replied as his lips moved in to place a gentle peck on her forehead, "Sweet dreams."


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO - THE GOBLIN KING**

"It's always the same," he shouted. Even if for the Goblin King a shout was no louder than his usual low growl.

The girl before him trembled. "You're him aren't you? You're the Goblin King, I'd like my sister back if it's all the same to you..."

Jareth failed to see the purpose, or the function, in allowing her to continue. "If you want the child back you'll need to make it through my Labyrinth." A smooth gesture of his arm and just outside what had been her bedroom window, materialized a vast expanse. High walls comprising acres of mazes and on the other side stood an enormous castle.

She began to cry. "Please, I didn't mean what I said, I was just upset for that moment."

"Tra la la," he sang out. "It was just for that moment," he mocked. Closing in on her, the verbal assault continued. "When will you children learn that your words have consequences, constantly assuming you can allow all sorts of drivel to pass your lips and never be held accountable for anything that's said in a moment of passion." He spun his back to her, the symbolic grandfather clock making its appearance at his side. "You have twelve hours," he warned, as the hands rewound themselves. Never again would the Goblin King be so generous as to offer a thirteenth hour. His days of reordering time were through.

"What happens if I fail?" she pleaded.

Jareth's face grew smug, "When you fail," he emphasized the when, "your sister will become one of us and I'll have another goblin to add to my collection."

"My parents have money." So much had been lost already, what would a little bribery hurt. "Mother has jewels, daddy has any of four cars that you could choose from...stocks...bonds."

"Do you really think I need money?" the Goblin King laughed. "I'm a king, I have jewels and riches of my own in multitudes that could make your parents blind with jealousy and greed."

Slowly, she reached for him. Though he didn't move away, he didn't seemed pleased either. Her hands ran up the length of his arm, feeling through the loose fitting fabric for the lightly defined arm beneath. "Perhaps then you and I could," she wet her lips, "work out a bit of an arrangement." One eyebrow cocked with curiosity.

"Really," the Goblin King nearly purred. His gloved hands reached around her waist and jerked her roughly to him. "You honestly think that someone so young and obviously inexperienced could satisfy a king." His lips came crashing down on hers in a way that both terrified and intrigued her. She was sweet 16 and had never been kissed, not like this anyway. Tossing her aside in disgust he spat, "Don't waste your time. Better than you have tried and failed." He pulled a gloved hand across his mouth as though he were trying to wipe it free of the taste of her. "Save yourself the humiliation and stay here to play with your dolls, child." Having said his piece he turned to the window and with a wave of his coat, changed into his owl form and left the girl to stare at the lifeless valley separating her from the Labyrinth, a heavy decision to weigh in her mind.

Alone in his bed chamber, Jareth had changed back into his fey shape. His skin shown with perspiration, not all of it entirely from the flight back his castle. He conjured a crystal in his right hand and held it before him. It spun effortlessly in his palm and slowly the fog parted to reveal the face of the teen girl he'd left only moments earlier. She was sitting on the edge of her parents' bed, still staring at the empty crib. Her eyes overflowed with tears. A weak voice mustered itself up between sobs, "How ? I can't do this. I can't be expected to take care of a child let alone hunt through some psychopath's labyrinth trying to get the thing back!"

Jareth let out a snort, "Perhaps little girls who feel incapable of caring for small children, ought not kiss grown men the way you do, my dear."

"It's not fair," he heard the girl cry. It drew his attention quickly, "My father's going to kill me!"

The crystal orb shattered against the far wall of his chamber as Jareth released his pent up frustration. "For the love of Christ! This ones not even going to try." It had been 15 years since the Goblin King had been given any kind of challenge. Since then, the boys and girls who had met with him as a result of their haphazard wishes weren't much of an obstacle, let alone anything to really worry oneself over. But, he had been beaten once. It would have taken a lot to impress him after that. Perhaps if someone had charged passed him once, as he was explaining the rules of his little game, and started into the maze, eyes blazing, determined to finish him off despite his threats. That may have done it, but most probably not. It didn't matter how ambitious anyone seemed or how much of their fear they were able to hide. None who summoned the Goblin King would ever be Sarah Williams. She had been the first to defeat him. Treating his Labyrinth as though it were some sort of Sunday stroll, each obstacle he presented her with became another small victory in their little war. More than that, she had been the first to capture his eye and perhaps even his heart.

Another crystal materialized from the air. It had been a number of years since Jareth used his magic to spy on Sarah. Right after she solved the Labyrinth, he could recollect a half dozen or so times that he'd done what he was doing now. Jareth felt it become an addiction not long afterwards. He'd find himself looking in on her two, three, four times a week, until it was nearly an hourly thing throughout the day. Though she had bruised his will, she hadn't broken him entirely. The Goblin King still had some strength left and so he began the process of hardening his heart towards her. By the time she was twenty-one, she was little more to him than the young girl who'd gotten lucky enough to choose wisely during her stay. By her twenty-fifth year, he commonly referred to her as the insolent nuisance whose consequences he would be forced to deal with for all of eternity.

Then there was Christian. Jareth had peered in on Sarah in the Spring three years ago. He had gotten word from some of his Aboveground connections that Sarah had taken to acting and was to take part in a major production. Something in the message must of been misunderstood, perhaps the date or the time, for when Jareth gazed into the crystal he had been given an eyeful of one of Sarah's performances, unfortunately it was an off- stage scene with an adult rating and Christian was the co-star. That was the last time the king could remember throwing one of his crystals against the wall until today. She'd obviously found someone else who offered her promises she was ready to accept. She'd been painted a picture of a future she wanted. "Have him then," he had shouted. "Someday when your child is born, I shall take my vengeance on it and while it may not be as sweet as what I sought for you my darling, it will bring me indescribable satisfaction." It had also been the last time he'd dared to look in on the child that vexed him so deeply he found it almost painful. Last time that is to say, until now.

It was the same apartment where he'd found her before, only she seemed to have grown more beautiful since he last intruded on her this way. Mortals claimed that only men got better with age, but Jareth found the object of his attentions seemed to age as gracefully as she danced. For a moment he paused in his observation to reflect on a time he'd caught her dancing in her room. She was alone, couldn't have been more than seventeen, swaying side to side, eyes closed tightly as an enchanting melody hummed over her lips. Similarly, he'd found her alone again this night. There was no dancing, no music. Sarah merely slept peacefully on an overstuffed settee. Her long black hair now rippling over her shoulders in thick wide waves, framing her sleeping head like a royal mane. Her skin still held much of its youthful appearance, a radiant glow with just a hint of creamy bronze kissed on her cheeks, giving the illusion that she was always just a little flushed. With a heavy sigh, Jareth caused the crystal to vanish.

"Curse the little brat," Jareth erupted. "She nearly had me going all soft on her again. Don't know what made me even give a damn how she was." Then more softly he mumbled, "Not as though she's ever thought of me since then." His tired eyes surveyed the room surrounding him. Today had lasted long enough for the weary Goblin King.

The room was lit by two crystal chandeliers and a dozen large pedestals holding multiple wicked candles. The walls were drenched in a rich Cabernet, the stone sills covered by a decadent black velvet which kept out both sun and moonlight, permitting him sleep whenever he felt it was necessary. He stood in the sunken sitting area where there was little more than a chair and ottoman covered in a forest green leather that had a marble finish to it. They faced a matching settee. The common space between those pieces divided by an oriental throw carpet and an old traveling chest, which he'd decided to use as a coffee table. The focal point of this area, a huge fireplace with a thick mantle which held an array of candles and a five by seven photograph.

Jareth's boots beat evenly off the marble floor as he made his way to the stairs. It was two steps to the upper deck of the room where a wardrobe and a highboy held the king's garments. A full length mirror separated the two and provided him the perfect spot for eyeing his appearance from head to toe. On the far wall there was a dressing table and stool next to a large mahogany door which led to a master bath. Jareth paused a moment to gaze at his reflection. He'd filled out some since the eighties, shoulders had broadened a bit and his mid-section carried a newly acquired dozen or so pounds, but he was still far from obese. Being in ones 100s wasn't easy he decided, giving a wave of his arm, causing his reflection to disappear.

A four poster bed monopolized most of the floor space on the upper deck of the room. It raised another two steps above the rest of the deck. Three more small steps up to the mattress from the raised platform. It was truly fit for a king. The balusters which rose from each of the four corners of the frame were intricately carved with an array of Celtic knots. The foot board too was carved, but rather than continue the Celtic design, it depicted a waterfall scene surrounded by lush vegetation and fairies at play or perhaps mischief. For fairies, they were much the same. All the carvings were impressive, but none so much as the headboard. Between the black velvet and the crimson silk which covered the pillows of the bed was a two foot block of the same mahogany used to create all the other furniture of the room. A dream catcher was cut into the center. Braided threads roped through the opening. Leather cord was fed through tiny tunnels which formed the circular boundary of the catcher. Two stark white owl feathers were attached to each end with hand drilled clay beads. The remainder of the wood was embellished with star markings, some even replicating constellations. Though it served merely to rest a heavy head, it was a work of art. The sheets were made of the same crimson silk as the pillows. The comforter was black velvet as were some of the decorative pillows. With amenities like these, the Goblin King rarely counted sheep or relied on warm milk. He merely enveloped himself in the layers of luxurious fabrics and found himself asleep in no time. Usually.

Tonight; however, it seemed as though he'd never sleep again. So many thoughts ran around in his mind. Thoughts of the new baby he'd have to contend with, thoughts of Sarah and perhaps the hardest to cope with, thoughts about himself and his own inadequacies. Jareth fought back all those related to that last category, after all he was king. "A bath before I retire," he decided. The door to the master bath opened slowly on its own.

This room was as impressive as the one he had just left. Grey marble floors spread out to meet black walls speckled with silver flecks, it was almost like being out doors. Small torch-like sconces lit the room with a subtle warm glow. In the center of the furthest wall were more of the familiar black velvet curtains and gold braided ropes, which hid the commode and wash sink. To either side of the curtain stood a statue, each abstract in nature and reminiscent of the Escher room, where he and Sarah had said their final words to one another. Jareth sighed again. With a wave of his arm, the sunken tub before him filled with steaming water. Jareth shed his clothes, depositing them in the jeweled hamper to his left. His boots stood as a pair by the door. The Goblin King sunk into the tub, water covering him to the neck. He closed his eyes. 'There had been days like this before,' he thought. 'Days that had come to pass and would again, soon.'

Feeling more relaxed already, Jareth's head fell back to rest against the cool tile. The contradicting sensations thrilled him. He began to hum an enchanting melody. "Why do I know that song?" he asked out loud as the room about him began to dance.

Outside the castle walls, the kingdom was filled with activity. The goblins who had taken the newest child were rushing her to the throne room. This was cause for celebration. One of the larger, more coordinated goblins was given the task of carrying the child, who wore only a soft pink bunting. She did not cry, nor did she appear to find any of this the least bit distressing. In fact, she giggled several times when some of the more comedic in the group would dance passed her. Through the dirt roads of the reconstructed Goblin City they danced and sang. "You remind me of the babe" one began.

"What babe?" another played along.

A third, not wishing to be left behind continued, "The babe with the power."

Beyond one of the labyrinth walls sulked a heartsick beast. His head raised as the singing got nearer, "Sar - rah?" he moaned. "Ludo miss Sar - rah?"

By his side, a regal fox mounted atop a shaggy sheep dog. "Say again dear brother? Whyst does thou speak of my beloved lady Sarah?"

A mighty paw reached down and raised him from his saddle, lifting him to where he could hear the goblins' song. Once Ludo saw Sir Didymus' face wash over with recognition, he lowered his brother in arms back to his mount. "That music's not been sung since milady made her stay," Didymus noted. "Ludo miss Sar - rah"

"As do I brother, as do I."

The goblins continued their song right up to the castle gate. Two larger goblins hoisted a third smaller species by the knees and elbows. Using his spiked helmet they repeatedly bolted him into the doors in an effort to attract the attention of their king. In this they succeeded, but perhaps not wisely. Jareth shot from his tub. A snap of his fingers had him dry, dressed and looking as royal as any day. His head jutted from one of the windows in his chamber. Keen ears picked up the music on the wind. A growl came from his throat as he used his magic to slide back the draw bar and allowed the hoard to gain access to the main courtyard. By this time, their song had looped. "You remind me of the babe."

"What babe?"

"The babe with the power."

'A goblin babe,' Jareth had sung to a candy stripped pajama clad baby, in the heart of his throne room so long ago. The memory now suddenly evident. The nagging familiarity of the melody which had plagued him suddenly obvious. In as loud a voice as he could muster Jareth ordered, "QUIET!", from his chamber window. All but one of the goblins stood deadly still under the watchful eye of their majesty.

"Slime and snails," that foolish goblin sung on, "and puppy dog's tails." The king pulled a crystal from the sleeve of his white painter's shirt and cast it at the half-witted creature whose mouth continued to disobey his direct order. Before the captivated eyes of the halted on-lookers, the crystal transformed into a silver lightning bolt. Jareth rode the bolt from his chambers toward the ground, quickly taking leave from the contraption just before it struck the mouthy goblin. Dazed the goblin's smoking body stumbled back and forth for a few seconds before he toppled to the ground.

"You'll sing only when and if I allow it." Jareth scathed at them. At his outburst the child began to cry. "Bring the child forward," he commanded. The goblin who had been holding the child, stepped forward to kneel before the king. As he did, he raised the child up as though it was an offering. Jareth lifted the child into his arms effortlessly. Her chubby fingers reached out for his face. In an attempt to avoid her touch, the king pulled back his head. The pink bunting looked quite bright against the black leather of his waist coat, which intern matched the black of his pants and finally those matched his riding boots. Despite his attempts to escape her reach, the baby made a desperate lunge for Jareth's nose and succeeded in catching it by the end.

"Your majesty?" one goblin inquired. Eyebrows raised in his direction. "In less than nine hours, the child will become ours. Is this not cause for celebration?"

Eyes narrowed, the reply practically spat back, "We've celebrated the first 4,081 children that were inducted into our kingdom. I see no reason to continue with these ridiculous formalities." He rose the child into the air, studying her thoroughly. "When the time is complete, should the child's sibling fail to reach my castle and defeat me, you may request the Triumvirate christen her Gossamyr."

"Gossamyr, your majesty?" One of the goblins repeated the command.

"As I said, Gossamyr, for the child is light and would likely make a good wood sprite or water nymph," the king explained. Another goblin questioned,

"But your highness, will you not make the request of the Triumvirate yourself?"

"The Triumvirate will not miss my presence. In fact, I think they'd rather welcome my absence." He set the baby back in the arms of the goblin before him. "Now then, you have my instructions. Go about your business and send me the dwarf."

"Which dwarf my king?" asked the goblin who had received the child.

Another replied, "Hog Brain."

"No," another cried, "Higgle."

"Hog's Breath," offered a third.

"Hoggle!" Jareth said clearly. "Send me Hoggle!"

Feet kicked up on his desk, Jareth waited in what served as both an office and a library. If he was to ask anyone in the kingdom about Sarah Williams, Hoggle would be the one to ask. What was taking him so bloody long? The Goblin King began to tap his crop against the desk impatiently. Everyone was so determined to keep him from getting any rest tonight. Slowly he opened the slender drawer in the center of his desk, withdrawing a pen-sized flute. Lifting the instrument to his lips he produced four high notes as his fingers frolicked over the tone holes. Upon hearing the notes, a house elf entered through a service entrance built in to appear as though it were a part of the wall. She curtsied graciously before her sire. "How might I be of service, sir?" She asked, never meeting directly with his eyes.

"I've requested the company of a certain dwarf," Jareth explained, indicating that she was permitted to rise from the floor before him. "Where is he?"

The elf straighten the light blue shift which covered her pale narrow frame. Pushing back the mid-length blond strands which interrupted her vision, she replied. "The kingdom has been searched your highness. Even his wife has been questioned."

Impatiently, he interrupted her, "Hogwart has a wife!"

"Hoggle's wife said her husband had left earlier this eve to tend to wood for their fire and has yet to return." Uncomfortably, she shifted her weight from foot to foot waiting for the king's inevitable disappointment.

"Unacceptable!" Her expectations had been met. Emotions were easy to read on the face of a fey. "I want him found immediately!" Just as the last of the sentence's syllables were rolling off of Jareth's tongue, Hoggle gently pushed open the double doors to the king's office. His brazen entrance demanded all of the king's attention.

"I was told you were lookin' for me, yer Majesty."

"Indeed," he purred. His hand waved to the house elf. "That's all Arulan. You may go." Though he was addressing his servant, his eyes never left the dwarf who stood in his doorway. "Come in Hedge Hog."

"It's Hoggle," his fists balled up at his sides. It had been years of being in Jareth's employ and you'd have thought he could've remembered his name by now.

"Have a seat." The doors behind the dwarf shut with a loud thud, sending him scurrying towards the semicircular Louis the XIV. A few grunts and flailing limbs and he was situated, opposite the king, unnerved by the way he was being looked over. "When did you last have contact with the mortal?"

"Which mortal?"

Jareth strode around the desk and lifting his long leg to a ninety degree angle, he sat upon the desk and peered down at the terrified dwarf. "Don't play with me Hoggle, or I shall suspend you above the bog of eternal stench." A hard gulp could be heard. "Along with your wife." Wide eyes began to narrow, as he leapt down from the chair and wagged a fat finger in Jareth's face.

"You leave my wife alone. She ain't never done nothin' to no one, 'specially you."

Though he admired the display, Jareth laughed at the threat presented to him, "Just tell me when you last spoke to the her."

It was fruitless. Jareth could out threaten Hoggle easily and he wasn't above misusing anyone to get what he wanted. Even Hoggle's unusual strength and glamour magic couldn't compare to what the king was capable of. Even when he had done it so many times before, it still made his insides quiver, "Just this night," he admitted, betraying his friend once more.

"When this night? What was said between you?" Jareth steamed with a healthy mix of jealousy and anger.

"Moments ago." Hoggle took his seat once more, not believing he would be excused anytime soon. "As for what was said, it ain't none of your business. It was all private, bout me and my family."

In an effort to offend him, Jareth made clear, "I don't wish to hear any details of your personal life. Bad enough my servant saw fit to inform me that you've wed. Let us rest it there. Tell me what of Sarah's state of affairs? Is she well?"

Arms crossed, Hoggle questioned the intentions of the man who'd never shown the lady's best interests to be much of his concern, "Whatta you care?"

Perhaps it was the rest he'd been repeatedly denied or a moment of weakness. "I care is all. I keep getting distracted with things that remind me of her and it's, well it's annoying." Realizing Hoggle had now witnessed a side of Jareth he'd intended to remain private, he burst forth in more typical fashion, "Just tell me, is she well?"

Stunned by the revelation, Hoggle offered forth more information. "Her body is well, her heart and mind are a story all their own." He looked into the king's mismatched eyes, nearly positive the left one was holding back a tear. One thing was unmistakable; more questions would be asked and perhaps it was best if Hoggle just offer up the information rather than make Jareth dig. "Lady Sarah has forgotten her magic, your majesty. No longer does she believe in the power of wishes. Only by accident did she call upon yours truly." Even if it was an accident, Hoggle still held great pride in the fact that he'd been chosen to be called upon. "Sarah had come to think we were all just imaginary childhood friends."

The Goblin King's face was full of sadness. Although he had come to terms with the idea that Sarah was not able to return his love, to be thought of as imaginary, to have himself swept from her consciousness was unbearable. Part of him cursed her for being ungrateful. Another part envied the fact that she could so easily rid him from her memory as he had tried so many times to do with her. "And your presence in her world, was this enough to convince her that what she lived through here was real?"

It was as though he needed the answer to be yes. "I can only hope. When I left she was asleep. Poor thing was exhausted. Maybe she'll wake up tomorrow thinking it was a dream, but I hope not."

For the first time in all the hundreds of years they'd shared the kingdom, Jareth and Hoggle agreed. "Her heart," Jareth said weakly, returning to drape himself across his leather high back chair. "You said something was wrong with her heart."

"The lady Sarah's heart is broken I thinks. It seems to me as though she's lonely, yer majesty. When I found her she was on her couch and she seemed as though she hadn't poured her heart out in awhile." Hoggle confessed.

There was a change in the Goblin King's tone that made the temperature of the room seem to drop twenty degrees. "Where was Christian?"

"Who?"

Jareth's hands spread flat as they slammed down onto the blotter covering the desk. "Hogger! I have been more than tolerant when it comes to your acts of stupidity. It would be quite unwise for you to play stupid with me now," he hissed.

"I ain't playing. I didn't sees anyone at the apartment with Sarah and she ain't said nothin' ta me 'bout no one named Christian," Hoggle swore.

Instantly a crystal began to spin on Jareth's palm. He again concentrated on Sarah. She appeared curled beneath the blanket on the couch. No man in sight. "Christian," he repeated. The vision in the crystal remained unchanged.

"Ask if she's involved with anyone," Hoggle offered.

"It's not a magic 8 ball you idiot. It should be focusing on him when I concentrate on him." Jareth spat back. "Quickly, what is your wife's name."

"Drema"

The Goblin King repeated the name in his mind until a clear picture of a goblin woman appeared inside the crystal. "Is this your wife?" Hoggle nodded. "Damn!" Jareth shouted swatting the crystal to the ground where it shattered. "Someone's been tampering with my magic." He stewed for a while in an attempt to ascertain who. "Her. She's using her magic to protect him."

"I hardly think," Hoggle began.

"That is entirely besides the point." Jareth interjected.

"I hardly think," Hoggle repeated more determined. "Sarah couldn't have mustered a simple glamour when I saw her, let alone cast a protection spell."

"Leave me Haggle." Jareth commanded as a glow overtook his eyes. "I've a christening to prepare for."


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE - THE TRIUMVIRATE**

The Triumvirate: three men; the Gavel, the Cleric and the Sage. Millennia ago, before even Jareth's father was king, the Triumvirate kept order in the Underground. Created to represent the three things required for a civilization: the Gavel tended to all matters political, the Cleric to all matters of religion and the Sage to all matters of the philosophic. Together they kept order among all the kingdoms of the realm. The Underground, being the largest among them, was at the center. All around the Underground other smaller kingdoms demanded the attention of the Triumvirate. After some time, the Triumvirate decided they simply could not efficiently manage all of the kingdoms. Each member was well into their thousandths, stationed long ago by fey elders, expected to hold their positions for eternity. While flattering, the responsibility grew overwhelming as the kingdoms grew in number.

For months, interviews were conducted with each of the most noble members of the Underground. In the end they voted unanimously to institute Oberon king of the Underground. Oberon was invited back to the home of the Triumvirate in the center of the fourth tallest mountain in the range that made up the southern border of the realm. There he was taught everything there was to know about ruling over a kingdom. How to be fair. How to keep order. How to motivate and lead by example. It quickly became obvious Oberon had been a wise choice.

Once he assumed the throne, the Underground began to thrive. Lush vegetation covered most of the northwestern sector of the kingdom. Fairy species which had been near extinction were brought to this oasis. Oberon even gave them a picturesque waterfall where they could hide from the goblins who tried to hunt them. They were able to frolic and play, dance and sing. Soon their numbers began to increase. Other mythicals came out of hiding. The unicorn could be found sipping from the pool created by the falls. A half dozen or so leprechauns uncovered a cave behind the waterfall where they chose to hide their gold pieces. The king was pleased.

He had done much in just his first few years of rule. But there was much yet to accomplish. In the northeastern sector of the kingdom he created a soft pink sand beach where the water nymphs could glamour to their hearts content. Further out to sea was an island which lifted a great lighthouse into the sky. Mermaids crested the waves and could sometimes be found on the shores of the island singing in the moonlight. Not to be out done, the cliffs provided the perfect setting for the Banshee to howl her cries. Creatures great and small scurried when her song echoed off the cliff sides.

Of course, by now word of all the improvements being made to the northern sectors had made way to the southern sectors of the kingdom. There was much unrest among the gnomes, sprites and pixies who felt slighted. Oberon pleaded for their patience. It was very much his intention to further refurbish these sectors as well. And so, reconstruction began on the southeastern section of the kingdom. A thick forest was created with plenty of foliage and undergrowth for the tiny breeds to nestle in. Grand stumps left in for the large varieties to make into homes.

Lord Oberon had made quite a kingdom for himself, but he'd forgotten something crucial in creating balance. All those creatures that favored the cold. The elves and snow fairies had no place to blanket with their magic. Therefore, the king used the remainder of his land to provide a wonderland for those who were content to dwell among the icy blue. Igloos dotted the snow covered landscape. An iced over pond was covered with skating elves.

In the center of it all, his castle stood tall. Inside the king, his queen and any of their minor children were permitted to stay. Surrounded by a city of goblins. Goblins were strong, but lacked common sense and good judgment. In this way, the king had created a true symbiotic relationship. He was well protected by their brawn and devotion. They were close enough that he could pay careful attention to their breed, protect them from, well from themselves. Because of this, Oberon earned the name Goblin King from the nobles of the other kingdoms. They mocked the gentility he openly showed to the creatures which were so often ignored by others. In truth, they were jealous. He had been given the Triumvirate's faith and trust. For the first time in the history of the realm, one fey had been made king. Given a kingdom all his own to rule as he saw fit.

Before long, the Triumvirate stopped inspecting the Underground at all. Their time was better spent surveying the progress of the smaller kingdoms in the realm. By century's end, they'd even found the time to rest. The Gavel visited the pink sand beaches in the northeastern sector of the Underground. The Sage sought a peaceful getaway to the northwestern sector's inspiring waterfall. The Cleric dined with the king and they discussed all that he had done for his subjects and how it had created more harmony among the species. Even though it appeared to be a distinct separation, each species was free to roam about the kingdom as they saw fit be it for business, pleasure or residence. They'd become tolerant of one another. They'd learned to accept and embrace their differences. They'd even discovered some similarity.

The Underground had its king, but Oberon did not have a queen. It was well into his 150th year of rule when he decided to hold a masked ball. There was so much to see within the kingdom, that few visited the castle unless it was in despair. By throwing a ball, he would meet other fey who lived within the kingdom and hopefully a queen. Indeed he did find love that night, but not with one of the invited guests. Oberon found them pretentious. They were trying to be coy. Expecting him to fawn over them, pamper them, provide for them. Having reached his limits, the king wandered onto his balcony to stare at the night sky. From beneath the balcony he could hear sweet music filling up the night.

By the time Oberon managed to weave his way through the dancing crowd and get outside, the music had stopped. Instead he saw a fey kneeling before some rose and lavender bushes which lined the wall beneath the balcony. She was a commoner. The house maid to one of the guests who was asked to remain close at hand should milady desire to depart. Together they sat and talked until the night was chased away by the new day's sun.

Her name was Gwendolyn. Both her parents had been murdered in the raids which plagued the realm prior to the organization of the Triumvirate. Gwendolyn was tall and pale. Her long blonde hair shone nearly white in the moonlight and glistened like gold in the morning sun. Oberon was smitten with her beauty. Not just her physical beauty, but the beauty of her character as well. Just as morning's sun chose a resting spot in the tall blue sky, Oberon and Gwendolyn were come upon by her noble. Furious she ordered Gwendolyn into the carriage. The king objected vehemently and proposed marriage to the orphaned child. Disgraced the noble's mouth hung agape. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, she dismissed her servant and returned to her carriage with as much dignity as she could muster.

The following year Oberon and Gwendolyn were wed. In the five years following their marriage she had bore him two sons. Corwyn and Darien. Though Corwyn was the elder, he was not the more aggressive. It became apparent from the very early years that Darien had no intention of becoming a submissive younger sibling. Even at play, he took great satisfaction in the defeat of his brother. Corwyn on the other hand was able to keep things in perspective. A game was a game. If winning was more important to Darien then it was more important to Corwyn that his brother experience that happiness. Gwendolyn found it endearing. She looked at her son as gallant, a king in the making. Oberon, on the other hand, worried that his son's caring nature would become his undoing. These were fears not completely without merit.

In the Spring of his 1001st year, Oberon approached the Triumvirate. He had appreciated their faith in him and the honor they'd bestowed by crowning him first king of the Underground, but he'd had two heirs, both well since of age to take the throne. It was his plea to the Triumvirate that he be allowed to pass his throne onto one of his sons so that he might live out his years in the company of his wife without the pressures of ruling the kingdom. The Gavel was appalled at first. He felt Oberon had delivered an insult beneath his inquiry. After all, they had given him nearly supreme power. Now he stood before them rejecting it. The Sage understood what it was Oberon sought. It had been the same pressure they themselves had succumbed to 783 years ago when their quest to find someone to rule the Underground had led them to the man who stood before them now. With no precedent to call upon the trio voted amongst themselves. After many hours of debate the Gavel ruled: Upon the 1000th birthday of the king, or anytime thereafter, provided that he has an heir over the minor age of 75, may pass the title of king onto his heir. However, let it be known, that in the case where a king has a number of heirs, the throne will pass to the eldest male, barring death or some other tragedy that might effect his rule. Then unto each of the younger males in sequence. Should all male heirs suffer death or tragedy, the female heirs shall become eligible to rule as queen, with the same 1000th birthday option being given to her as well. In the case where a king has no heir, he will rule until such time as the Triumvirate deems him unable. Upon such a ruling, the king will be assigned an apprentice, whom he shall teach to hold the throne.

The words burned themselves into the stone that comprised the mountain all around them, and so the first of the laws governing the king were set. Oberon read the words carefully, as the Gavel had instructed him to do, making certain that he fully understood the process. He must, by order of the Triumvirate, pass his kingdom to Corwyn. He knew Darien would consider this a defeat. Quickly he ran the scenario through his mind. Corwyn was 631. In a short while, relatively, he would be able to opt out of the throne and, to appease what would most likely be an enraged younger brother, hand over the Underground to Darien. Although Oberon didn't really feel as though Darien could effectively rule the Underground, but Corwyn's attempts to satisfy his brother had not ebbed in all these hundreds of years and he doubted they would recede now. On the other hand there was his beautiful Gwendolyn, who much to his amazement retained a very youthful appearance for a woman in her 900s.

Fey aged differently needless to say. Though each passing year they aged one equivalent year, their physical appearances were a reflection of what they felt inside. Thus, while Oberon was 1001, he appeared about as old as a human man in his mid 50s. His wife, Gwendolyn, at 971, appeared as youthful as a human woman in her early 40s. While a fey could physically grow older the effect was not reversible. Were a fey in his early hundreds to experience grief or illness which weathered his spirit, they might appear significantly older. Even if he were to recover, his physical appearance could not rebound to what had once been a youthful facade. Being king had worn Oberon down. He could feel himself growing weary at heart and he knew that while Gwendolyn tried her best to hide it, she too suffered from the same weariness. So why not pass down the throne to a young and able Corwyn who was wise and kind enough to rule well? Oberon only prayed that he was smart enough to keep the throne from the dangerous temperament of his youngest son.

There before the Triumvirate, his wife and his two sons, Oberon who had ruled as the first king of the Underground became the first king to rescind his throne. The Triumvirate announced a formal festival to be held in three days at the castle. A celebration of the end of one king's inspirational rule as well as inspiration to a new king that he may rule as well and as wisely as the fey who had ruled before him.

As expected, Darien was furious that Corwyn was asked to hold the throne. What had been etched into stone by the Triumvirate mattered very little to a child who had believed for more than 600 years that he had been forced to live in the shadow of the new king. What did amaze Oberon was that Darien worked tirelessly in those three days to prepare for the festival, despite the fact that his face betrayed joy he claimed he felt for both his brother and his parents.

Morning of the third day came. Oberon had called his sons to the castle for a family breakfast. In private, he gave each of them a gift. To Corwyn, a small box, unwrapped, black with a red velvet ribbon. To Darien, a larger box, magnificently wrapped and so weighty it required four goblins for transportation into the dining room. Darien's eyes were wide with pleasure as he took notice of the significant difference in size between the gifts. Corwyn nodded to his brother who opened the package immediately, disregarding the card upon which Gwendolyn had scripted, 'Defend your home before you attack your enemy, but above all else protect your family.' Darien's eyes met with his father's once inside the enormous box. Oberon nodded. It was the first time in as long as the king could remember his son had looked to him for approval. Greedy hands felt the full length of the treasure inside. Darien's fingers wrapped around the hilt just below the cross guard. His knuckles were white. Oberon's gaze grew worried. Perhaps he had chosen less than wisely.

The sword had belonged to Oberon's father who had fought for the Triumvirate during the raids. He warned his child, this was a gift to be greatly respected. Crafted to kill other fey, the weapon contained iron, the one element fatal to the immortals. Merely holding it would weaken fey magic and continue to do so even more the longer it was held. It was the former king's hope that some of the nobility with which that sword had once been wielded would find it's way into Darien. Heaven knew nothing else had worked.

With a hefty sigh, the attention turned to Corwyn. The attention of all but Darien who could not be distracted from his reflection in the blade before him. In Corwyn's box was a medallion. Heavy and made of solid silver, it began as a triangular point and hung on either side like two upside down bull horns. Stamped, in gold, at its center point with the emblem of the Triumvirate. Just above the emblem was a feed hole through which a black leather rope had been placed. He recognized his father's gift immediately. Corwyn had listened intently to his father when he spoke of the raids and the role Corwyn's grandfather had played in them. The Triumvirate had hand chosen Corwyn's grandfather to fight in the raids. This medallion was one of about a twenty awarded to the bravest fey which had also been so chosen. Corwyn pleaded with his father saying Oberon was the rightful owner of something so precious. Darien winced at his brother's modesty. Once he agreed to accept the gift, Corwyn slid the leather over his head. The medallion was heavy on his chest, not the last nor the largest of the burdens he was to feel.

By noon the Triumvirate had arrived to inspect the grounds for the festival. All the families hard work had been repaid when the setting was approved. Moments later the guests began to arrive. Well into the night music could be heard even beyond the Goblin City. There was dancing and amazing foods. Magnolia wine and mead flowed from fountains that seemed to never run dry. Merriment overcame everyone, even Darien, who was caught dancing with more than one lovely fey woman throughout the night. Late in the morning Oberon pulled his eldest son aside. He hadn't seen him dance once all night and it was not for lack of beautiful fey women who had attempted to catch his eye. "Take a wife Corwyn," he instructed. "This mighty castle is just stone and mortar without a bride to share it with."

"Someday," Corwyn had promised his father. "For now I must worry that I am deserving of being king. Someday I shall worry that I am deserving enough of being a husband."

Oberon smiled at his son's ever present selflessness. Sunrise was coming up and the Triumvirate had sent a carriage to pick up Gwendolyn and Oberon to take them to their new home, a cabin in the southwestern section of the kingdom. Shortly after the former king and queen departed, so did the Triumvirate. Shortly after that the guests took their leave. When it had dwindled to just Corwyn, Darien and the younger fey's conquest for the evening, the new king finally took his throne. "Best get yourself a woman here with you brother. What a pity it would be to see you someday die alone." Darien spat at his sibling before he left draped upon the shoulders of a young fey woman who Corwyn did not recognize.

For 62 years, Corwyn had ruled the Underground with much the same diplomacy as his father had for hundreds of years before. He had gained respect of the community. Even the unruly goblins obeyed him. Time had come for Corwyn to consider taking a bride. The eve of his 700th birthday found him alone in the palace game room, playing chess with his brother. Several bottles of mead into their celebration they'd begun discussing women. Darien told all his lewd stories of conquest and domination of course. Corwyn rather wanted to find someone who, like himself, favored other's happiness above their own and who wanted all the same positive things for the Underground that he did. Darien rose to his feet and overturned the table on which they had been playing. "Brother you dream dreams that can never be." Picking up a chess piece from the floor, Darien continued. "Fey women are like this pawn, meant only for our pleasure. Maybe we hold them for an hour," he glared down his nose at the still seated Corwyn, "others for a minute, but eventually they are discarded and forgotten."

Wherever Darien had learned to think of woman this way stumped Corwyn. Their father had not treated woman this way, certainly not their mother. The king began to extol the virtues of their father "Father was a fool. A damned old fool who gave away everything to his favorite son, who has no idea how to use power." Darien spat at his brother's mention of their father.

"Leave," Corwyn insisted. "Leave and do not return until you can speak to your king with respect and of your former king with the same." Darien gave his brother a glance, one eyebrow raised high into his forehead. It was the first time in all their years as brothers Corwyn had proven himself worthy of at least an ounce of his respect.

Night's shadows hid Darien as he devised a plan as evil as he was. He knew Corwyn was alone. He'd given the servants a night off. His gift for the kindness they'd shown in best wishes for his birthday. Made slow and tired by the mead that traveled in his veins, he would retire quickly. Darien returned several hours after his departure from the castle. He waited below the tower which lead to the king's bed chamber until he had seen that Corwyn had extinguished the wall torches. "If only he hadn't decided to start talking about taking a bride." Darien whispered at the stars he saw reflected in the iron blade, "Then I wouldn't have to concern myself with some heir coming along to steal my throne."

Beneath Corwyn's window, he enchanted the castle walls. It was a simple spell designed to fool gravity into thinking the castle ran parallel to the ground rather than perpendicular. Then he grasped his grandfather's sword using it as a cane to walk up the outside of the castle wall. Half way up, the iron in the sword began to weaken his magic and he bent to his knees, using his free hand to help him crawl the rest of the way. Once he reached the window, Darien easily swung his legs inside the ledge and touched down lightly to the stone floor. Corwyn lie sleeping in his bed, intoxication made his restless sleep a heavy one. High above his head, Darien held the sword, point down and prepared to plunge it into his brother's stomach. A second before the sharp iron blade met his skin, Corwyn opened his eyes and met them with his sibling's. "Someday, I knew..." was all he was able to utter, before the iron that touched his blood struck his heart.

Darien withdrew the sword and sheathed it. He sat in the lower deck of his brother's bed chamber, Corwyn's body just a few feet away. He had been so moved by the passion of his hate, he had forgotten to think himself up an alibi. Sweaty hands cradled his throbbing head. Then it came to him. Working feverishly, Darien conjured up another species of fey footprints outside the window. He lowered the open glass through which he had entered and broke it free of its pane, taking careful measure to cast the glass back in upon himself. He gladly allowed the glass to cut his flesh. Lastly, he manifested a silver dagger and plunged it into the back of his thigh.

Out the door Darien did his best to run. The pain in his leg was searing. It ran both down to his toes and up into his stomach. He knew he wouldn't die, but he had no idea he would be so uncomfortable. "Help!" Darien cried into the night. "Someone has slain the king."

When morning came, Gwendolyn and Oberon were brought back to the castle where they had once lived. Both looked much older than they should have given their retirement. Gwendolyn's frail hand lie wrapped inside her husband's palm. Darien approached his mother. He knelt before her taking her free hand into his own and kissing it tenderly below the wrist. "Mother," he cried as crocodile tears traversed his cheeks, "I did as you had intended. I tried to defend my brother's home." The former Queen's eyes did not change from the emotionless orbs of glass they had become upon her arrival. "But I must confess one thing." At the mention of a confession, Oberon laid critical eyes upon his child. "When I could not protect my family, I avenged the death instead." Darien then rose to meet his father's skeptical gaze. "Are you not proud that I was able to kill whatever did this to your beloved son?"

Oberon had grown old indeed, but at the same time he had grown wise. "They never found any body but Corwyn's. What is it you claim happened to the remains of whatever did this to him?" The way his eyes narrowed as he stressed 'whatever' infuriated Darien.

"It fell out the window. Others of its kind must have come and taken it away." Refocusing on his mother who had never truly been able to come to terms with her son's cruelty, the murderous fey continued, "I was too upset about my brother. The weapon used must have been at least part iron." Was that a tear falling from his eye? "There was nothing I could do for him."

As it were, the Triumvirate was never able to prove that Darien was responsible for Corwyn's death. By their law, he would assume the thrown. The Sage offered him one week's time to grieve for his brother, after which time they would swear him in as king. "Kind counsel, I have already been forced to watch my brother suffer at the hands of madness. I refuse to subject my kingdom to the same." Rolling off his forked tongue, like water over a stone, the words sounded almost genuine.

It was settled. After a brief ceremony was performed by the Cleric to commit the former king to sacred ground. Darien was sworn in as the third king of the Underground. Beneath the cheers of the on-looking crowd, Oberon whispered, "Blessed be the Underground."

The new king was presented with his brother's medallion, as the Triumvirate found it insulting to bury medals of honor. Quickly he donned the necklace and dismissed those in his presence claiming he wished to grieve. Darien spread out in the throne as though it were some sort of chaise. No less than five fey woman joined him in the castle that night to help 'ease his suffering'. The Underground was about to change forever, but not even Darien could anticipate how much.

Two days had passed and the new king had done little more than spend his time enjoying the benefits of royalty. Everything was prepared for him from his food to his baths. He entertained countless strings of women. The drink flowed as freely as it had at Corwyn's festival. But chaos brewed in the Underground. No one respected the new king and he certainly didn't enforce his rule, not well anyway. By noon of the third day the Triumvirate had arrived. They had thought up a few things to help Darien stay safe. If attackers were about to descend on the realms, they would not want to lose another king.

Darien answered the door, greeting all three men. After explain their purpose, the Triumvirate joined hands and began to cast a spell. Though it was not the immediate result that a short spell tended to have. A profound effect was being felt throughout the realm. Darien steadied himself in the doorway as the mountain ranges which had once made up the border to the realm shifted until they separated the Underground from all the other kingdoms of the realm. Beyond the Goblin City a great maze rose up from the ground. "Never again," announced the Gavel, "shall it be so easy for someone or something to enter the home of the king. This is a great and ever changing Labyrinth. Any and all who seek entrance to the castle, must first complete the riddles which lie inside. The number of Goblin's in the city was allowed to double.

Once the Underearth ceased it's steady rocking and adjusted to the wishes of the Triumvirate, they told Darien he would be required, at least for some time, to seek their approval on all decisions made involving the Underground. Even if it was merely his request that lamb not be served for dinner. Darien was greatly disappointed. In order to turn this, as he did with every scenario, to his advantage, the king allowed the Triumvirate to essentially rule the Underground, so that he could continue to spend his time drinking, carousing and spending the realm's riches.

This went on for quite sometime. The Triumvirate was virtually ruling the Underground again. Unfortunately Darien decided to take a wife not long after the three fey had mentioned their desire to dethrone Darien and replace him with someone more acceptable. In a hurried ceremony by the lake, the two were married outside in a gazebo, in the Northwest. Despite the number of women Darien had shared his bed with temporarily, that day he pledged his life and soul to Arianna. Though she wasn't particularly beautiful, she made a fine queen. Her heart was good and, though she waited until after the marriage to reveal this, her will was strong. She allowed Darien to do very little. This pleased the Triumvirate and once more they were able to relax their presence in the Underground.

She conceived his child several months after their wedding. During her pregnancy Arianna allowed her husband to take lovers so that his appetites could not harm her child. The Queen had a difficult pregnancy, but delivered a healthy baby girl nonetheless. They named the girl Leanan Sidhe. Their daughter was not yet 300 when Darien was given the option to rescind his throne. Arianna made it clear, that he was to pass the throne to Leanan Sidhe or she would no longer permit his scandalous affairs. Darien had taken many women to his bed and odds were that Leanan Sidhe was not his oldest child, nor was it likely that no males had come before her. Still, as his only legitimate heir, she was made queen of the Underground regardless.

Leanan Sidhe was an amazing combination of Darien and Arianna. She had incredible strength both physically and spiritually. She had been blessed with Darien's good looks, but her mother's iron will. Her heart was kind, but her head light and she often fluttered from issue to issue in the Underground. While nothing ever got solved, it was still never allowed to run completely out of control. Her closest friends encouraged her to marry. A king to run her kingdom and she would be free to flutter as she pleased without worry or concern for the consequences. But immortal men bored Leanan Sidhe. They were ordinary to her and she was far from ordinary.

The Queen daydreamed lazily about her trips to the Aboveground. It was an incredibly fascinating place and she got to spend so little time there. Just long enough to explain the rules to whomever it was wishing away their children, or the children in their care. A time or two, when she had been particularly fortunate Leanan Sidhe managed to seduce a mortal man while in the Aboveground. Her tastes had been forever changed. It was just a matter of finding a man she couldn't leave. Sadly, Leanan Sidhe knew little of just how much power she had over men. The Leanan Sidhe could entice any man. Her beauty inspired them artistically. An occasional poet could produce epic works. Someone who before her could hardly whistle suddenly sang like a bird. Of course, in exchange, the spark she ignited in their hearts consumed them until their unusually earlier deaths. But of course, by the time the Sidhe's effects could be seen she had already returned to her world completely unaware of the devastation she left in her wake.

She had been on holiday the summer of her 416th year when she met Ian. Ian was a writer for a magazine. He had chosen to vacation at the same beach where Leanan Sidhe had gone. It was a topless beach in the French Riviera. Naturally the Queen had been engaging in the local customs and the mortal became smitten with her. By the end of their week together, he had shown her all the wonder of the mortal world. With him she had known more than just physical love. He had shown her what came the next morning, the day after that and the day after that. Walks in the moonlight. Dancing to music that played only in her head. Long conversations that ended in laughter. Only all this time Aboveground was weakening her magic. At the end of their holiday together, Leanan Sidhe asked Ian to return home with her; however she gave him very few specifics about exactly where home was. The mortal was obviously overwhelmed with her world, but there was no question that he could not be without her.

Ian took to the Underground with relative ease and made a good king in the scheme of things. The Triumvirate was less than pleased. Mortals were still rather questionable in their eyes and while it was too late to forbid her marriage to Ian, they insisted that all future mortals entering the kingdom be christened and converted to immortals so that their world would not be overrun. The decision came to late for Ian, who died suddenly in the arms of his wife before he reached the age of 45. Shortly after his death the Leanan Sidhe discovered that she was with child. Torn between joy and pain, she cried for weeks. Her hormones began to balance and she was accepting the permanency of the situation. She began to think of the child as a way to keep her husband alive. Closer to the end of her term, she hired an elf to nanny the child.

Fearful that her curse would effect any man she chose to love, Leanan Sidhe shuddered when her midwife told her the child was a male. For one brief minute, Leanan Sidhe held the child. Coldly she told the midwife, "I name him Jareth." She handed away her child. "Take him from me," her eyes pleaded with the woman, an urgency growing in her voice. She did not want to bond with the baby, "now!"

The elf nanny raised the baby. She gave him love and exhibited great patience with his hijinks, but Jareth was always well aware that she was not his real mother. Once he was no longer a minor, the Leanan Sidhe left the Underground. She left behind a picture of her and Ian as well as the medallion which her father had given her, asking that someday when the Jareth was old enough, he be told about his true parents. In the Aboveground, Leanan Sidhe was able to hide away from mortal men who found her irresistible. Slowly she lost her magic. Finally she was not able to survive Aboveground.

When word spread to the Triumvirate that Leanan Sidhe's journey was far more than a holiday, they began the process of making Jareth king. He had inherited his mother's beauty and his father's knack for ruling the kingdom. He was filled with charm and could sing even a nightingale to sleep. This fey was arrogant, controlling and he would serve the Underground well. By his 81st birthday Jareth ruled nearly unsupervised, except for the occasional christening. They only hoped that he would not meet the same disastrous fate the noblemen and women before him had.


	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR - ON BENDED KNEE**

Morning of the following day had come to the Underground. Jareth had slept, although not well. The anxious goblins, on the other hand, stayed awake all night counting down the minutes until the child would become theirs. They impatiently awaited the Triumvirate's arrival. Promptly at ten, the only respectable time to hold a Christening, the three fey descended from the mountains behind the castle each donning formal attire. The Cleric led, this being a religious matter after all. He was followed by the Gavel. It was his law that forced them together here today. The Sage brought up the rear of the small convoy. Though he was regularly in attendance for these formalities, he found them trite, an excuse drummed up to consume food and liquor.

Jareth met them at the rear gates. Centuries ago, after King Corwyn's murder, the rear gates were installed. They could only be opened with a set of three magic keys. Each member of the Triumvirate held one of these keys. Only when the keys were turned in unison could the gates be opened. As the fey trio entered the gates, the Goblin King bowed low to show his respect. His crisp white vestments swept the ground, fanning out around him. The tip of a leather sheath peaked out from beneath his coat. In the sheath a sword, legend to have killed the villain who had slain Jareth's Grandfather while he slept. Around his neck a worn black leather cord held the medallion once worn by Jareth's great-great-grandfather. The king's arrogance was well deserved and well worn. Genuflected before the Triumvirate Jareth seemed regal, both supreme and subservient at once.

"Rise Goblin King," the Cleric spoke. He approached Jareth and took him into a warm embrace. "It's been too long my friend. I worry you have abandoned your faith, or worse, that you believe it has abandoned you."

A gloved hand patted the back of the religious fey. Best as he could Jareth feigned a smile. "Bring forth the child," he instructed.

"What child?" asked the goblin who'd been struck by lightning the night before. Another goblin slapped him.

After a bit of a bustle, which embarrassed Jareth, a larger goblin stepped forward with a child in his arms. "My liege," he knelt to offer the child which was no longer wrapped in the soft pink bunting. Instead she wore a white silk gown elaborately detailed with lace, ribbon and pearls.

Gently Jareth accepted the babe and held her in turn out to the Cleric. "We humbly request this child be christened with the name Gossamyr and that she be granted immortality here with us in the Underground."

An incense burner hung from the cords which tied his robe. A wave of his hand ignited its contents causing the distinct patchouli aroma to billow out in puffs. The Cleric began to chant in his ancient language. Behind him stood the other two thirds of the trio. Both of them wore an expression of intensity. At some point in the chant the child was taken by the Cleric who waived the burner over and around her small body. The smoke accentuated the child's aura. All goblins in attendance at the ceremony bowed low in awe. Jareth himself returned to his knee. At great length the Cleric finally spoke, "Welcome Gossamyr, Wood Sprite of the Underground. We take you into our hearts and minds, forever interconnected as all things fey are. We bless happiness unto you and we draw upon the happiness of your spirit." The child's ears began to point as the cheekbones heightened making the facial features more pronounced. The child was now fey. Each fey had at least one deformity. Though she now wore those deformities, Gossamyr was still a beautiful child. No doubt she would be beautiful through all her life. "Bring forth the Representatives," the Cleric continued.

There were four true Representatives, one for each of the sectors in the Underground. Each chosen by the community to be the one who would receive and induct the stolen children. Though he was primarily king, Jareth too was a Representative. His goblin community looked to him to handle these matters as none among them were truly bright enough to have done it. Likewise, it was the king who had sole power to banish a creature to the Labyrinth. The two southern sectors' Representatives took their places to Jareth's left while the two northern sector's Representatives came forward to stand at his right. In unison the males recited, "Great elders, we are each only too humbled to accept this child. We recognize our obligation to welcome and educate her and we pledge that even if she is not chosen to share our sector of this kingdom, she shall be eternally welcomed to share our lives."

"Insomuch as each of you has pledged yourselves unto this child, it is the decision of the Triumvirate that the new wood sprite, Gossamyr, shall be given unto Tiberon, Representative of the southeastern sector of this kingdom." The Cleric met Tiberon's proud gaze, "Step forth and claim your child." At this time the Gavel drew a leather ledger from beneath his vestments and began to make an entry.

Knelt before the trio, Tiberon reached to accept Gossamyr. "You have seen fit to award my people a new and beautiful child. We praise the three of you. I accept this child and vow to keep and provide for her to the best of my ability. She will be raised to obey the laws, enjoy our realm and praise the Supreme One." Tiberon accepted the child. Reaching toward the Sage, he extended his thumb and lowered it into a well being held out toward him. He saturated his thumb in the oil, brought it to his forehead, made a small triangle and repeated, "In the presence of the Gavel and of the Sage and of the Cleric, this is my vow." He repeated the procedure on the child's forehead.

Upon the completion of the vow the Cleric announced, "Let us celebrate!"

There were many loud cries as Tiberon marched the child through the crowd and into the main gardens of the castle. The child was cradled beneath a cherry blossom tree where she slept peacefully. Others around her laughed and danced. Still she rested. A roasted pig was present for lunch. More of the kingdom's inhabitants made appearances. Jareth greeted the majority, then retired to his throne room, where no one would be permitted during the festivities, and took his meal there requesting the company of the Cleric. Of the three fey comprising the Triumvirate he was the only one who took a liking to the Goblin King. For reasons they kept to themselves, the others had a distaste for him. Perhaps they feared that he would someday succumb to the evil that he'd inherited from his grandfather. Solely the Cleric knew that Jareth had inherited much more from his parents than from the generations that had come before. He alone had been witness to Jareth's more spiritual side. He personally counseled him through his mother's leave and subsequent death. He knew of the king's heartache for the mortal, Sarah, and had hoped that Jareth would seek him again for healing. Sadly he had not. Intuition told him that the recent change in his friend stemmed from his repressed pain. Sarah reminded Jareth of Leanan Sidhe. It wasn't an Oedipal. It was just that he had been abandoned by every woman in his life who he had wanted to stay. Pain had not just effected his heart, but his physical appearance as well. Fifteen years on a fey looked to be little more than a human year, but the Goblin King seemed to have aged five times that much. And when the Goblin King was effected so was his land. Lush areas of the kingdom had become overgrown. Areas beyond the Labyrinth had become a ruddy desert completely void of any vegetation. It was indeed troublesome.

"I accept your invitation Jareth. In truth, the request pleases me more than you know." The king offered his vacant Queen's throne to the holy fey. "Tell me friend, what is it that troubles you these days?"

Never moving his attention from his meal, Jareth dryly replied, "Little troubles me these days. I choose not to allow it."

"Then you offer your troubles to the Supreme One?"

"I forbid my troubles Cleric. Besides, the Supreme One has no time for the troubles of a fey such as myself."

"I feared that would be your response," the Cleric hung his head and sipped from his goblet of mead.

"My trouble is this," Jareth lowered his fork forcefully to the plate before him. "There are many who wish to harm me. I am well aware of that fact. I am aware also that I continue to survive because I am feared. Can you tell me Cleric, tell me that the Supreme One can waylay those fears? No, you cannot." He leaned back putting a little distance between the two of them. "You shall be the only friend to share my meals. No woman shall share my bed for more than one eve." Jareth waved away his near empty plate and called upon a goblin to bring him more mead.

With a nod the Cleric accepted a refill from the grotesque fellow who poured as carefully as he could, but managed to spill a few drops nonetheless. "You are not fully the fey you fear they see."

"They call me evil, a rat. King of the Goblins they snicker as if I were little more than a royal babysitter."

"You are a good king," the Cleric stressed.

"I am a feared king."

His eyes met Jareth's, "You are a respected king." A frail hand reached for the soft grey leather clad hand resting on the arm of the throne. "My intuition tells me there is more at the heart of your doubts."

Jareth jerked his hand away. "I have seen love lead to nothing but tragedy and so I shall never love. Without love, I shall never seed an heir, with no heir, I shall rule the Underground until such time as I am killed or you and your companions deem me no longer worthy of the title." He paused to sigh. "I am mocked enough as it is for the lineage handed down by my grandfather and the controversy of my mother's indiscretions with a mortal man." In one gulp the king emptied his goblet. "Then I find myself defeated by a mortal child. Disgraced to my entire kingdom. Whispered rumors about my unnatural feelings for mortals. I thought I'd rid myself of her meddling years ago. Now I find she's been using her mortal magic to interfere with my fey powers." His fist crashed off the arm of his throne. "I cannot effectively rule if this is allowed to continue."

The Cleric had listened closely and heard much more in the outburst than Jareth had intended to tell. His heartache ran deeper than his defeat at the hands of a mortal girl. Indeed, he had gone without a father, raised by a surrogate mother and made to suffer for evils done before him. Now his future seemed condemned to the same fate that plagued his past. Jareth's magical mishaps were not the result of anything the mortal had done, the Cleric knew this. A small chuckle arose in his throat. Sweet honey wine washed it away and with some levity he asked the king, "And who was it that gave the girl her powers?"

"I had no idea when I gave her those powers that she possessed magic of her own that would become ignited."

Mercilessly, the Cleric continued with his inquisition, "And why was it you had given her certain of your powers?"

At this Jareth glared at his companion. "You know full well."

"You loved her, my friend." He waved away his plate, "Were it my call to make, I would wager that you do still." The king's teeth were closed tight and his lips barely moved. "I am incapable of love."

"You are incapable of accepting love. The Supreme One made us all capable of love." "Don't preach to me holy fey. You forget my father was mortal. In his realm there is a Heaven and a Hell, ruled by a God and a Devil, representing good and evil. Every being in that realm is a bit of both. Part of me is a mortal being who the Supreme One refuses to acknowledge. The only reason you made me immortal was to ensure an heir to the throne."

Jareth's eyes were wide with rage as he took in the laughing Cleric. Between chuckles he admitted, "Oh now, be calm. I see I've pushed you further than I intended." The king's anger stilled some. "It's neither rejection by the Supreme One nor your mortal that plagues you now."

"Then what is it?" he spat.

Again the Cleric broke into laughter. "'Tis I my friend and I have been caught red-handed."

Jareth's eyes became curious, "Explain yourself immediately." His words rolled from his tongue as would a serpent's, were they able to speak.

"Years ago when the mortal defeated you, the Triumvirate was forced to uphold her words. You would have no power over the girl. This meant your magic was useless in all matters involving her or her more immediate loved ones."

"Then why is it that I can see her in my crystals?"

"My fault again, I'm afraid." The holy fey eased back into the throne and folded his hands across his mid-section. "It pained me to see you without Sarah. She brought you joy Jareth." A great moan escaped the king as he moved to interrupt. "Quiet. Denounce it all you want, but she brought something in you to life. You loved that girl. How cruel would I have been to take even her image from you?"

"Cruel! You were worried about being cruel! Do you have even an inkling what you've allowed me to see?" the king shouted.

"Truth hurts us at times. I have told you that before." He continued with his explanations. "There was no perfect way to resolve the matter. It was either something or nothing. Frankly, I fear that I may have been unwise in my decisions. I take it you have seen her with a man."

That was an understatement if Jareth had ever heard one. "She has taken a suitor. I have called upon her vision when they were mating." Just saying it made him ill.

"Jareth, the humans call it love making."

"No Cleric, this was not a process of making love, trust me when I tell you this." Immense displeasure consumed the king's face. Quickly, he moved to change the topic, "So it was you who messed with my magic?"

"Aye."

"In my best interests I'm sure?"

"Aye."

"I do not like limitations placed on me Cleric, especially without my consent."

"I would imagine that you do not, Jareth."

His glove rose to his chin, the forefinger jutting out towards his guest. "Tell me this. What must I do in order to regain my full magic?"

This was an unheard of scenario. No one questioned the Triumvirate. "I do not believe you can do anything. Orders issued by the Triumvirate are not subject to question."

"Ah," Jareth rolled the sound from deep in his throat, over his tongue and through his open mouth, "but no order was issued. None that I was aware of."

He had spoken truth. The Cleric himself had entered the order and knew it had never been formally announced. "You are wise beyond your years." He rolled his thumbs over themselves as he thought the scenario through. "I suppose," he continued, "you could request the mortal rescind her statement."

"Tell me some other way," the king's tone half way between a plea and a command.

"I can't." He pondered a moment longer. "If you were to petition the Triumvirate for a reversal, you would be unquestionably denied. Your only other remedy is to risk facing the mortal again."

Jareth's eyebrow cocked, "Risk?"

"Were you to request Sarah rescind her statement, she may deny you a second time. I don't know that I could offer you anything if this were to occur, not even her image."

A wicked grin overtook the mouth of the king, "You needn't concern yourself with that. Should the mortal girl deny me again, I'll have no need for her image." He stood and moved to exit the throne room. "You'll excuse me. You know the way out."

The Cleric called down the long hall, "Jareth, there are conditions which I must place on your attempt to face the mortal."

Suddenly Jareth reappeared immediately before the Cleric. "What conditions?" he asked visibly aggravated.

"Now is not the time. It is a day of celebration." His hand left a swift pat on Jareth's shoulder. "Enjoy yourself tonight. Tomorrow at noon, come to the Triumvirate." Jareth rolled his mismatched eyes. "Now, you'll need their consent to leave the realm anyway so if I was you, I'd relax, get a good night's rest and try to come tomorrow with an open mind and a closed mouth."

Jareth draped himself across his throne. "Enjoy what?" he grumbled. Nothing or no one in his garden brought him any joy.

The next morning he arose where sleep had claimed him, still draped upon his throne. A chorus of curious voices sang around him.

"Is he dead?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"He's breathing."

"I wish he were dead."

"He can't die."

"Somebody poke him."

"Get away from me," the king roared. "Get me Hoggle."

"Yes your grace," several of them answered at once.

"It's still quite early," a goblin piped up.

Jareth grabbed him by the collar, "Get me the dwarf." He punted the goblin into the hall.

Moments later Hoggle's stout legs propelled him with great purpose into the throne room. "Now you listen heres yer Majesty, I'll not have you summoning me at all hours this way."

"Hobble?"

"Hoggle."

"Yes, next time you plan one of your outbursts, be certain I've not decided to offer you an opportunity first. It may just cause me to change my mind." The dwarf's eyes narrowed suspiciously at the king.

"I will be taking my leave of the Underground for a period of time. I have no wife or child to oversee my throne in such an absence. My goblins all lack the intelligence to polish this," his gloved hands ran over the arms of the elegant chair, "much less sit in it." He eyed Hoggle carefully for some hint of comprehension. "Do you see what I'm saying?"

"Yer going away," Hoggle repeated.

"That is all you would hear." Jareth rose and paced circles around the dwarf as he continued, "While I'm away you will be acting king. You have always been loyal to me, with the exception of certain things pertaining to a certain mortal."

"Yer majesty? I...I..."

"There is nothing to object to. You will do this."

"Where are you going?"

"To see the Triumvirate." He avoided Hoggle's stare hoping it would stay his questions.

"Why?"

"I don't need to tell you anything."

Knowingly, Hoggle looked at the floor. "It's Sarah ain't it? You're gonna go after Sarah."

"Before you get your breeches in a bundle, I'm only going to ask for my full magic back."

"If you harm even one hair on her head, I swear..."

Jareth raised a hand to hush him, "Why would I do that now when I have had fifteen years to seek my vengeance and done nothing?"

Hoggle knew better. Sarah had a profound effect on the Underground. Each of the creatures who met her grew to love her. For Jareth it ran deeper. He had fallen in love with her. To hurt Sarah was to hurt himself and that went against his interests. "When will you leave?"

"Four hours from now." He turned his back and began to leave. Over his shoulder he said, "Move your family in while I'm away so you needn't be separated. Arulan will tend to you and a nanny will be provided for your child."

Hoggle stood dumbfounded by what had transpired between them. Jareth was very out of sorts, but then again, Sarah had that effect on him. Now he had gone and made Hoggle king. The dwarf's head swayed back and forth watching the king's slow stride lead him out of the throne room. Even fifteen years later she continued to defeat him. "I hope you know what your doing," he warned a deaf Jareth as the throne room doors thrust themselves open and the king left for his bed chambers to prepare.

Arulan entered carefully. Word of Jareth's mood had spread quickly throughout the kingdom. Her long blonde hair hid her worried eyes as she bowed toward him, "How may I serve you sir?"

"Run my bath," he said flatly. His intention had been to deliver the news of Hoggle's new appointment, but it didn't seem right to begin there.

Obediently, she rose, crossing in front of Jareth to the master bath suite. Upon her return she found her Lord seated on one of the leather couches on the lower level of his chamber. A snap of his fingers had ignited the logs in his fireplace. Soberly, his chin rested in the palm of his hand and his distraction was beyond obvious. "Your bath is run, sir. Is there more that I might help you with before you leave?"

One of Jareth's soft grey leather clad hands rose to dismiss his loyal servant, but was halted as it occurred to him exactly what she had just said. A raised eyebrow instead turned to her. His hand lowered and he used his elbows to brace himself on his knees. Silently he questioned how she'd become aware of his plan.

"Begging your pardon sir, but word travels fast in this castle especially when that word his about you." Jareth nodded his agreement. "Tis true that you've left Hoggle in charge?" Jareth's head nodded again, this time staying low as he waited for the criticism to follow. Criticism never came. "I think that is a wise choice my lord. Only the Supreme One knows what the goblins would do unsupervised." A slight chuckle arose in her as she thought about what that would truly be like. "Rowdy bunch, they are."

The king looked at her intensely, he trusted so few others. Arulan had been with him as long as he'd been in the Underground. Her faithfulness to him and his kingdom had never been questionable. Unfortunately, it was no matter of state that burned inside his soul right now. Tears fell inside his heart. He condemned himself to facing the mortal again. Might as well have been an iron blade he would attempt to swallow while praying that the hot metal spared the delicate lining of his throat.

The elf could sense in him great fear and burdensome doubt. In all his adult years she had never dared to touch her king. It was a matter of respect between them. But this minute her heart wept with his. Too many times through the thick wall separating her chambers from his, she had heard him awaken from sleep shrieking the mortal's name. A name that had become legend in the Underground echoed in a cry that made him seem almost infantile. Arulan had resisted many times, taking him into her arms and attempting to ease his pain. One delicate hand braced her against the arm of the couch were he sat. The other rose to the king's cheek, "You will not lose a second time. In fact, this time I believe you stand even more to gain."

Jareth leaned into her touch, after all, it was not often that someone in his realm touched him tenderly. Fey were creatures of heightened sensitivity. The king himself had worked for centuries learning to hide his emotions, remain aloof almost arrogant in the face of fear or sadness, doom and danger. In the touch of his house elf he felt overwhelming compassion. Years of suppressed tears rushed towards his eyes culminating in one drop which escaped his eye and ran furiously fast down his cheek.

Upon seeing this, Arulan quickly rose and left the company of her king for fear that she would be punished severely for crossing established class boundaries. Jareth made no move to stop her nor to reprimand her. Instead he seemed ignorant of her as he wiped away the wetness from his face. Just before she left he spoke. "Arulan?" The trembling elf stopped and turned toward him, never making eye contact. She feared she would never be able to do so again. "Serve the dwarf only half as well as you have served me. I do expect to reclaim my throne when this has past and I'll have no argument from his not wanting to leave."

She understood both his words and his meaning as she tearfully responded, "Aye."

Submerged in the hot water, the Goblin King prepared himself for his meeting with the Triumvirate. What would be said. How he would respond to the gauntlet of questions. He asked himself if it was worth all that he would endure. First there would be the chastisement of the three. Then he would undoubtedly suffer some indignation they would assign. Worse than all else he would have to face his mortal again. Eye to eye with the woman child who had defeated him. Of her he would have to request, no beg, his magic be returned. She would make him beg he thought. As she had turned the Labyrinth to her benefit, so would she turn his trip to the Aboveground. Sarah Williams knew his weaknesses.

For one brief moment, Jareth imagined that he might confess his heart to her. Shattered by his ideas of just how awful it would be to be that vulnerable before her a second time, the image fled his mind. No he decided. He would harden his fey heart to her. So began the process once more. Repeatedly, he replayed the moments she betrayed him. The ways in which she had denied him. The disapproval in her eyes and the repulsion in her touch. Anger raged through him practically boiling the water in which he sat as the first stroke of noon rang out from the grandfather clock in his room. By the third resounding bong, he was dressed in his formalwear, leaving behind his sword, of course. It would have been most inappropriate to make a request of the Triumvirate donning weaponry. As the fifth bong rung out he sighed deeply. Knelt to the ground beneath him and waved a corner of his long coat. The glitter blew away.

"Jareth," the Gavel's voice filled his ear, "I see you're punctual as always."


	6. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE - ABOVE THE UNDERGROUND**

"SARAH!"

It was a deafening male cry which shook her to her toes. For a moment even the hot water that cascaded over her skin seemed to run cold. "In the shower," she hollered back trying not to sound as irritated as she really was.

Christian poked his head around the curtain. "Where the hell are my keys?" Sarah turned around a bit faster than she meant to and practically lost her balance. Recovered from the near stumble, she focused on Christian as she stood naked before him, the water massaging her sore muscles. Sore from sleeping on the couch for almost a week since the first night she'd dug out her old copy of the Labyrinth and read it cover to cover. Sarah thought he would've taken notice, not only of her absence beside him, but of the sight she was before him. This was supposed to be a man's fantasy, but not Christian's. He really just wanted to know about his keys.

"I saw them on the coffee table earlier," she told him pulling the curtain closed. Sarah didn't think of herself as particularly unattractive. Then there were these moments when Christian could make her feel tragically ordinary. Moments later she heard the front door slam. "Couldn't even be bothered to tell me where you were going on a Saturday afternoon?" Sarah huffed. Shrugging off her boyfriend's rejection, she continued her shower. She washed her thick, dark hair and scrubbed her face. Lathering a scrubbing sponge, the irritated woman ground exfoliating wash into her skin until it began to glow. The hot water stung her skin, adding to the redness she'd already created.

Emerging from the shower, Sarah felt renewed. It was Saturday, she had nothing to do and Christian was gone. A purple terry robe wrapped about her, hair wound in a towel atop her head, Sarah made her way to the kitchen. There she found the coffee pot turned on and nearly empty. What remained on the bottom of it was chemically changing to a thick brown epoxy. Angrily she threw the switch, bringing the science experiment to a halt. "And people wonder why I drink tea. Honestly, you would think a 33 year old man would know how to make a lousy pot of coffee!" Grabbing the pot she tried to set it in the sink, but found it already full with pans and a plate. An over medium egg and two half strips of bacon covered the apple basket pattern in the middle of the Corelle dinner plate. "Disgusting!" She set the coffee pot down, pulled up the plate with one hand and a pan with the other. Setting down the pan, Sarah scrapped the leftovers into the disposal. "How hard was that?" She threw her hands up. "Scrap the leftovers into the disposal, load the dishes in the dishwasher, turn the coffee pot off, tell the woman you live with where you're going."

Rising and falling in time with her sobs, her shoulders settled on a permanent slump. Whenever someone questioned her relationship with Christian, Sarah managed to smile bravely and utter something very understanding about how either they wanted to get to know each other first or it was more of a priority to establish their careers. In the beginning, she meant it. That was a couple of years ago. Now the excuses tired her. She wanted to be somebody's something. Thirty was too old to be a girlfriend. Christian should have realized by now what he had. She cared for him, kept his house, did his wash and shared his bed. In fact, there was little left for him to do for himself. Scour the papers looking for auditions and then go off to them. Even that he had trouble with. The parts were always too small or too beneath him. As if someone with Christian's limited natural talent was in any position to be particular. How did she let herself come to this?

A long time ago she had some idea what love would bring her. Sarah wanted to find someone who made her laugh. Someone who swept her completely off her feet. She wanted to share kisses that made her knees weak with someone who made her heart pound. Young and determined not to settle were one thing, but now she was older than all her married friends. She wanted to be married too, didn't matter if he had no class or consideration, that he was rude and insensitive. Christian was a prospect, but he hadn't even brought it up. Sarah dropped a few hints, but they, much like she, went unnoticed. Tears were flowing again.

"I need you Hoggle," she sobbed into her palms. "I need you right now!"

"...that pea-shooter at those chickens or else I'm gonna..." Hoggle's voice trailed off as suddenly he noticed there was no tiny goblin before him to be chastised. "Sarah? Sarah, did you call me?" Bushy eyebrows moved back permitting his blue eyes to look up at her. Tears fell from between her fingers to the floor in front of his feet.

Amazed, she gawked at him as she fell to her knees. "You came back! You came back!"

"Of course I did" His sausage fingers smoothed her hair.

Wrapping a bit of her sleeve around her finger, Sarah dabbed at her eyes. "Oh Hoggle, I'm so miserable." Suddenly it became clear that she didn't want to confess anything, she just didn't want to be alone. "Miserable for what I've put you through. I feel like I owe you something."

The dwarf gave her a crooked smile, "Sarah I can't help yer you're gonna lie to me." No matter how difficult it was, he turned his back to her. "Now I'm very busy in the Underground and I have very little time for false alarms. Unless you truly need me, I've gotta get back before those nitwit goblins destroy Jareth's castle."

"Why isn't Jareth keeping an eye on them?"

"Ah, ah," Hoggle stumbled. "Jareth is...busy with other things right now...and...well...he asked for my help."

"He can barely remember your name, Hoggle. Now who's lying to whom?"

"Ain't none of your business what Jareth does. He's got no rule over you." He shook a finger at her, "Said so yourself."

"I used to speak so quickly. Back then I was so caught up in what I would say I had little time to grasp the consequences." Mindlessly, Sarah twisted the soggy sweater sleeve in her fingers. "You were right. In my youth I took many things for granted. Hoggle what's wrong with me. I used to be brave enough to say what I thought and stick up for myself. But now," she motioned around her, "I take orders, on and off the stage. I do as I'm told and I never question what is asked of me. I never tell them I deserve better."

"And by them, you mean Christian, don't ya?"

Raven black curls fell over Sarah's shoulders as she cocked her head at the perceptive dwarf. "How did you know about Christian?" Hoggle turned back to face his friend.

"Just knew is all. I know lotsa things. Taught you 'bout fairies didn't I? Helped you work the Labyrinth didn't I?"

Sarah nodded on both counts, "I wish you could help me now."

"Seems to me, you need to help yourself." He stood before her, catching her eye and taking her hand into his. "Do you love this man, Sarah?"

"I don't think I've ever been in love with anyone Hoggle." Mentally she analyzed the men from her past. "Maybe one," it occurred to her, "when I was too young to realize it."

Hoggle knew what she was thinking and while he knew she was right, he'd spent 15 years wondering how someone went from hating someone else so intensely to reminiscing over their love for them. "Why would you wanna be with someone who you don't love, who don't love you," shyly he looked away, "not like you deserve anyway."

She looked at him with honesty and pain prevalent in her eyes, "Because Hoggle, it's better than being alone."

"No Sarah, it's not. It's less lonely than bein' alone, but it ain't no better."

Sarah smiled at him. He was trying to help, she knew that. A hand reached out and snatched up a handful of his cheek, giving it a pinch. "How'd you get so smart?"

"I listen to what Drema says." Hoggle chuckled, "and you'll listen to yer friend Hoggle." He excused himself, claiming that business at the castle begged for his attention.

Sarah nodded her understanding before giving him one last hug and kiss, then bid him good day. He had spoken truth to her. When Christian got home, there would be a discussion to be had. This time she would not back down. Whatever she needed to say would be said and regardless of what his ears wanted they would hear her. For that moment some of her adolescent bravery surrounded her.

Maybe too much, as she ran back to her bedroom and took a seat at the now antiquated dressing table. Vivid green eyes peered into the glass. For nearly a minute, she held her own gaze. Sarah felt like she had locked eyes with a stranger. Everything around her seemed unfamiliar and the 30 year old face looking back was out of place. After licking her lips, she ran them together and as forcefully as she could said, "I need you." A nervous pause filled the space between the sentence and its subject. "Jareth."

As the remainder of the Triumvirate was filing into the Great Hall, the Goblin King doubled over, clutching his stomach and bending his knees. 'She's calling me again,' he thought as he waited for the agony to subside. It was his own fault. Jareth knew well enough that all things fey bore a certain connection to each other. He'd given Sarah his magic and every time she tried to use it he felt the struggle between his desire to obey and her proclamation which rendered him powerless to oblige.

Stooping to assist, "King Jareth, are you not well?" the Cleric asked.

Shaking off the helping hands, he stood and nodded to indicate that the momentary discomfort had passed. "I feel fine holy fey and stand only to feel better and stronger should you and your associates see fit to grant my simple request."

"Simple?" the Sage questioned. "It is not without some knowledge that we come to meet you today Goblin King. The request you intend to make is as simple as asking the stars not to shine. You must realize the extent to which what you seek is extraordinary."

"I don't find it extraordinary that a king should desire his full powers."

The Gavel spoke again, "And is that all you desire?"

"Tis not for the Triumvirate to ask," the Cleric interrupted before Jareth could respond. "As I see it, a decision was made without any notice being provided. A decision I myself take full responsibility for. We would be remiss to forbid our king his right to reclaim what is his."

"Don't you mean whom?" the Gavel spat sarcastically.

The Sage laid a hand on the lawful fey's arm, "For pity's sake my brother, regardless of what or whom our king seeks, this could be a most interesting situation if we are wise about it."

Trouble spread over the Cleric's face. He suspected that they might use this as an excuse to toy with Jareth, humble him a bit.

"Make your request," the Gavel instructed.

Before dropping to his left knee, a wary glance left Jareth's eye and sought out each member of the Triumvirate. Once he was knelt before them, he dropped his eyes to the floor and spoke trying desperately to be sincere, "Most honorable fey of the Triumvirate, I find myself before you today with a request. You three alone are all powerful in this realm." He choked down a hard swallow before continuing, "Either way I will respect the decision you make, but I respectfully request passage above the Underground."

"Your purpose?" queried the Sage.

The king wanted to say, 'you know full well my purpose', but he remembered what the Cleric had said to him only one day earlier. "I wish to face the mortal who once defeated me."

"Why might that be?" smirked the Gavel. Of the two members of the Triumvirate who lost no love for this king, he seemed to be enjoying their little game the most.

Jareth sneered. There was a limit to what he would take. He started to rise, then resumed his position when he saw the hand of the Cleric raise itself toward him. "I wish to ask her to free me of the proclamation she made when last we faced one another, thereby restoring my full power as king and returning the fey magic I had once granted her."

The Gavel was merciless, "And why did a wise fey such as yourself share your magic with this mortal child?" He tried to hide a smile behind his hand.

A low rumble started in Jareth's throat and his growl soon echoed off the walls of the Great Hall. "Enough," he shouted standing to confront the lawmaker and the philosopher. "I am king. Not by vote, not by appointment, but by birth right. Mortal blood courses in my veins, it is true, but I had no say in it's being there and I won't allow you to punish me for it one more minute." The Cleric stood between him and his associates. Jareth directed his attention toward his concerned face. "You know as well as I do that a decision was made before any one of us entered this room. They're toying with me like a caged animal." Refocusing on the other two he spat, "You do know how a caged animal reacts to being toyed with gentlefey."

"Spew your threats someplace else Goblin King." The Sage responded. "Only a fool would dare to wage battle with the Triumvirate. I do not believe you are a fool. You may not be wise, but you are no fool." He eyed Jareth until the king uncomfortable shifted his glare away. "You were correct in what you said. A decision was made before any of us came here today. Perhaps we were a bit unruly to badger you the way we have, but your request has been granted."

Granted. Jareth never imagined he would hear that word today. He began to bow in gratitude. "Not so quickly," the Gavel interjected. "Your request has been granted inside certain perimeters."

How the Goblin King hated that fey. He was always making things more difficult. Shamelessly flaunting his power when it came to those he didn't much care for. It made him wonder what the elders had seen in him that made him worthy to hold a seat in the Triumvirate. Jareth rose his eyebrows in the Gavel's direction indicating that he was ready to listen to these perimeters.

"First," he began, "you will have no magic to use for your journey."

Jareth nodded.

"You will begin from your castle in the morning. You will work your way through the Labyrinth using only your wit and skill."

Jareth nodded again.

"Provided that you solve your Labyrinth in the same amount of time you once gave the mortal, you will be granted passage to the Aboveground. Keeping in mind that you will work the puzzle in reverse and so solving your Labyrinth will mean finding the outer most gate rather than your castle."

"Agreed," the Goblin King said, turning to leave.

"Not so quickly, there's more," the Gavel continued. "Should you make it Aboveground, you will not be able to do anything more than confront the mortal to make the request you claimed today you wished to make. This means no quarreling with this or other mortals. No stealing children and no hiding away Aboveground like your mother"

Jareth scowled at him.

"This should not be a problem if what you've said is true." He held the glare of the king until the scowl faded. "Should the mortal deny you, again," the Gavel stressed, "you will be forbidden to return Aboveground ever again, unless it is to take a wished away child. Additionally, your powers over all mortals will be usurped." The Gavel sneered, "That means relying only on the Labyrinth to defeat the mortals. No more poisoned peaches. No more bubbled balls. No more viewing the challengers in your crystals. A fair fight Jareth. You do know what that is, don't you?"

"That's preposterous," Jareth shouted.

"That's your opinion" the Gavel said. "These are your conditions as we the Triumvirate see fit to make them. Do you accept?"

The king looked helplessly to the Cleric who only hung his head as helplessly in return.

"Do you accept?" the Gavel repeated.

Jareth nodded one more time.

The Cleric looked at him, "Are you mad?"

"It's too late to reason with him Cleric, his decision is made," the Gavel said snidely.

"Jareth," the holy fey met him eye to eye, "did you pay attention to what they said? All of your powers over all mortals usurped. You'll be little more than a figure head in the Underground if you fail."

His hand reached for the holy vestments. "Then I best not fail." With that Jareth swung his cape and disappeared.

"Even centuries old you act like children," the Cleric said to his associates.

Back in his bed chamber Jareth stared into his mirror, "I'm coming Sarah."

The front door that had seemed to close only minutes ago, was opening now after being sealed for many hours. Sarah stirred in her seat, "Jareth!", she called. Frantically, she dried her eyes and smoothed her hair. Horrified she realized she was in her robe. Quickly she dropped it to the floor and pulled on a baggy sweater she hoped would hide the fact that she was missing a bra. Sarah headed to the front door hoping on one leg as she tried to get her jeans on. "Jareth?"

Beyond the door there was mumbling. The occasional frustrated groan filled her with fear. Her hands trembled as she reached to undo the lock. Until now, Sarah didn't realize how much she had wanted to see the Goblin King again. What would happen when the door swung open was a mystery to her, but it was one she wanted to solve. One last pat on her stomach to try to settle the butterflies and Sarah flung open the door, taking a step back and propping against the wall.

"Jesus Christ Sarah!" It was Christian. "I've been out there for 15 minutes trying to get your attention."

If disappointment were any greater, Sarah wouldn't have known it. Butterflies gave way to waves of nausea as she grew physical ill just at the sight of him. "Why didn't you use your key?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked, raising his arms to show they were full with bags.

"You went shopping." What, so he was a magician now? They had less than 50 dollars between them and neither one with any job prospects this week.

He set the bags down on the couch, "Yeah I went shopping."

"With the credit card?" It was not easy to hide her anger.

"No," he retaliated equally as upset at being questioned this way. "I asked grandma for some cash so she sent me a check."

"You asked your grandmother for money? How much Christian?" He avoided her stare acting as if he never heard her voice. "How much Christian?"

No longer able to ignore her newly authoritative tone, he raised his eyes to meet her stony stare, "What business is it of yours?"

"I'll tell you what business it is of mine. I'm tired of cleaning up for your irresponsibility. The things you do effect me Christian. The rent being late means I might lose the roof over my head. The money you put on the card, I'm just as obligated to pay it back as you." Sarah boldly began unpacking his bags. There were two new suits, half a dozen shirts, a couple of ties, new shoes and a chunky brown leather box. When she opened it she saw a thick banded gold men's watch inside. "Holy shit Christian, how much did you take from her?"

It was unlike him to concede, but something about the way she seemed so determined, the way she uncharacteristically took charge of the situation, stole his focus from his secrecy, "A couple thousand."

Rifling the expression she had worn the first time she'd seen a professional stage in New York, Sarah's green eyes blazed and grew wide. "A couple of thousand," she choked. "When are you going to grow up?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. When are you going to grow up?" Sarah threw down the watch in her hand. "That woman lives on a limited income. What she does have she's worked hard to save and it's taken her years."

"Well she wanted me to have it. She said so."

Head shaking, "No, you wanted you to have it. She's so blinded by her love for her first grandson she couldn't tell you no," she pointed out.

Snatching the bags up, Christian raged, "It's none of your business what I do with my family."

Without knowing it he'd managed to touch on the root of the entire problem. "No, it isn't is it? I suppose it never will be." He looked at her without saying a word, his face screwed up, trying to figure out what she meant by that. Clearing his confusion, Sarah continued spewing out words whose origins were a mystery to her. "Well you've been as aggressive with our relationship as you have with your career. Sitting back waiting for it to happen, not doing anything to take charge of it."

"Oh no you don't," he set the bags on their bed and came out charging at her. "Don't you start with this marriage thing again. We've done this a thousand times and each time we've come to the same conclusion. We need to establish our careers first."

"What careers?" she spat back in his face. "You can't get a decent job to save your soul and I'm not permitted to take anything that might upstage you."

Harshly, his fingers ground into her upper arms, "That's not true!"

"It is true," Sarah continued even though she felt his grip digging deeper into her muscles, "because if it weren't you wouldn't be so upset."

"Well if that's what you think, then fine." With a quick shove, he threw her aside. "No one's been beating down our door to offer you a role either."

'Yeah,' she thought, 'because I've said no so often they've stopped asking.'

"If you think your such a prima donna then the next time that phone rings, take whatever part they offer you. But I won't be in the audience when you fall on your face in embarrassment."

"Embarrassment?"

"Yes, Sarah, embarrassment. I didn't want to tell you this, but your talents have always been more in your looks than in your performance."

"You're a fine one to talk, the last commercial you did they had to voice over because you sounded to young for the product they were trying to sell."

"They had to do the voice over because that guy had the accent they wanted but not the look."

Sarah's eyes filled with pity, "Awh, is that what they told you?"

"To hell with you Sarah," Christian said evenly as he slunk back to their room. "Not only will I not be around when you fall on your face, I may not be around at all much longer. I don't know what's gotten into you, but it's not attractive."

"What's gotten into me? What has gotten into me. You walk around here like a king. I cook, I clean, I pick up odd jobs sewing to get us money to pay the rent while you wait for the golden role to fall in to your lap. It's not what's gotten into me, it's what's finally coming out of me." He looked up at her one more time, defeated and showing sadness for probably the first time since they'd met. "Let's just say that someone's convinced me I deserve better."

At that, Christian closed the door. Sarah ran her hands through her hair. "What just happened?" Sure it all needed said, but part of her was frightened by the idea that she had actually upset the impenetrable male she shared a home with. Her intention had been to sit with him calmly and finally release what was dammed up inside of her, but the way he came home loaded with packages, the way he talked about his grandmother. It was enough to infuriate her to the point of losing control. Regret was setting in. Sure it felt good to speak her mind, but what good would it do her to end up alone. Christian's jobs weren't frequent, but when they came, they paid well. The jobs she got were minimal on the pay scale. It was too soon for her to realize that without him she could take better job offers. Too soon for her to realize that freedom sometimes began as pain.

Just as the tears started to fall again, the telephone mounted to the wall behind her began to ring. "Hello," she peeped out, trying her best to sound pleasant.

"Sarah? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. Fine." The voice on the other end of the phone was her agent. "I, ah, just came up the stairs."

"Well maybe you should sit down."

A few steps behind her was one of the breakfast stools which she immediately used to her advantage. It wasn't often your agent suggested you have a set. "What is it?"

"There auditioning for Eponine and I got you a six o'clock spot." he accentuated the pronouns for emphasis.

"Eponine?"

"Yes, Eponine. You know Les Misérables? Sarah are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm auditioning for Eponine." Nervous laughter escaped her throat as she said loud enough for Christian to hear, "I'm auditioning for Eponine!"

"I knew you'd be excited."

"Excited," Sarah said, "I'm positively thrilled! I've got to find something to wear. My hair needs done, my nails."

"You need to rehearse. Make sure you practice Sarah. If you nail this audition, it could mean everything for you," her agent reminded her. "Now I'll see you tomorrow night at six"

"I'll be there at ten till." She cradled the phone and charged into the bedroom.

Christian was propped up on one elbow setting his new watch to match the alarm clock. Ignoring him, she pulled a bra out of her dresser and slid it under her sweat shirt, fastening it in the back. Quickly smearing on some lipstick, she grabbed her purse and turned to leave. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I have an audition tomorrow," Sarah said with more pride in her voice than had been there in a while.

"So I heard," he replied smugly, "but that doesn't answer my question. Unless you intend to be there incredibly early, where are you going?"

"I need a few things to clinch the audition," She told him checking her wallet to make sure she had the credit card.

Christian was on his feet in a flash, "You don't think you're going to use that card do you? Not after your martyr's speech."

Slowly, a smile rolled across her lips. "What's good for the goose," she said picking up her keys from the bureau and closing the bedroom door behind her.

Hours later, Sarah came quietly back through the front door, a long garment bag folded over her arm. Christian was asleep when she looked into the bed room. Just as well she thought. Finely manicured hands worked the hanger over the edge of the closet door. She removed her wool coat and folded it over the back of the chair. A reflection in the toaster caught her eye. Huge locks of thick black curls hung from her head. The salon had done wonders with just a few hot rollers and a quick trim. Suddenly, she felt alive again. It was like the early days, before Christian had so much say over her. The electricity in preparing for this audition was tingling through her whole body. Music played in her head, her feet powerless to resist it as they moved around the floor. Her voice wanted to sing, but was denied. Waking the man in the next room would only end all this joy. Sarah wasn't about to let that happen. She settled into the couch. Tonight it felt like a king-sized bed. She tucked her legs in with the throw, but no sleep was going to be gotten tonight. The calendar swore that it was only late October, but her heart felt like it was Christmas.

"You've got to sleep," she told herself, "otherwise you'll show up tomorrow with huge bags under your eyes. You'll be lucky if they offer you the Thénardier part then."

Sarah closed her eyes, picturing her performance. Her new dress showing off the body Christian so easily overlooked. Dreams began to overtake her and sleep did eventually settle in. Visions filled her subconscious. The street outside her apartment covered in a thick fog. It had been raining and the pavement sparkled as the streetlights reflected off the black top. Sarah's wool coat was just a bit tattered and her fingertips, no longer manicured, poked out the end of several fingers of her gloves where the cotton had worn away. A floppy hat pulled over her curls that were no longer thick and full, but matted and tangled. Though she saw herself alone, she was talking on and on to no one in particular. Step by step, Sarah confessed more to a faceless someone who seemed to stride beside her. After a pause, as though she were yielding to a reply, she smiled. Drawing her coat tighter around her, she danced in circles down the street, dragging her feet in the puddles on the road. She stopped and leaned against a mailbox, a look of joy spreading over her face. "I love you," her lips motioned in the gentle glow of the streetlight. Sarah's head tilted back, her eyes shut. Her closed lips parted as though she was receiving a gentle kiss. The point of view for Sarah's dream changed as she found herself inside her body, rather than watching it omnipresently. A small jolt ran through her as she adjusted. The street scene was no longer vivid. Instead, a chilled breeze blew over her cheeks, a few stray hairs caressing her face. The streetlights now no more than a glow through her closed lids. Sarah felt soft lips on hers. The kiss was gentle and warm, filled with love. She smiled against the mouth of the man she was with. Her arms uncrossed her chest and reached for him. In return he embraced her waist and pulled her to him, deepening the kiss. The man's bottom jaw bobbed rhythmically as his mouth massaged hers. His teeth tugging at her lips. His tongue working her mouth open further as their breath exchanged in heavy gasps. Sarah broke away from the kiss for air. Her fingers rose to her lips. They felt warmer and fuller than normal. Without his mouth to cover hers the chill of the night air blew across them making her shiver. Slowly, Sarah opened her eyes in search of his warm touch once more. He stood before her, tall and lean. His clothes far more royal than hers. A long coat glittering with jewels that reflected the light. A high collar met with the brim of a hat that obscured his face. Sarah smiled. She had been dreaming that she were Eponine and here with her as if by magic appeared her Marius. Her tender hand reached for his cheek. Turning his head to face her, she marveled in the fascinating shade of blue that enveloped the deep black center of his eyes. His face felt chiseled, his features defined. There was a familiarity to him. He smiled back at her showing his teeth. The incisors were slightly pointed making him seem devilish. Having surveyed his face, Sarah's concentration returned to his eyes. He moved into the light. As one onyx pool shrunk to the size of pin point, the other remained wide. His mouth reached for hers again. Sarah extended her arm keeping him at some distance, causing hurt to seep into those captivating mismatched eyes. "Jareth?"

Sarah sat up on the couch, clutching the throw to her. Her eyes shifted around the apartment that suddenly seemed foreign to her. Out the window she could see the streetlights shining. A shaking hand reached up to her mouth where her lips still trembled from the feel of the kiss in her dream. Inside her chest Sarah's heart beat as though she had just run home from the lake, where as a child she rehearsed her acting. Out of the corner of her eye she could have sworn she'd seen a snowy barn owl fly past her window. "Not in New York," she reasoned. "That's just not possible."

The Goblin King sat on a bench in the garden outside his castle. His long legs curled up on the bench, his riding crop swatting at his black leather boots. Had sunrise ever taken so long to come to the Underground before. Jareth manifested a few crystals and floated them off into the sky. Just as he was about to roll the last one off the edge of his gloved hand, a thought occurred to him. He plucked it back out of the air and tucked it into the pocket of his coat. "No point in leaving without my keys," he noted.

Golden liquid seemed to fill the sky and drip down over the castle grounds. Sunrise had come after all. Hoggle appeared at the doors which led out to the garden. He looked at his king with pity in his eyes. Jareth was walking along the Labyrinth wall, carefully examining each brick, attempting to locate what before sunrise he had seen as a very obvious entryway. He stood to lose or gain so much by this fool's journey he insisted on taking. There was a heart beating beneath his chest, even if it hadn't always seemed that way. Carefully Hoggle approached him. "Yer majesty, I wondered if you would need a hand in getting started."

"Indeed," Jareth said now beginning to look high and low rather than just straight ahead. "How does one get into the Labyrinth?"

The dwarf pointed ahead and to their right as his directions rolled off his tongue, "You gets in there."


	7. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX - JOURNEY OUT OF THE UNDERGROUND**

The stone walls rose high around the king as he looked left and right. 'It doesn't look that far.' The words echoed in his head. "It's further than I think," he said out loud. "Well then I have thirteen hours to reach Sarah Williams before I lose my magic over mortals forever. Won't get there standing still." Jareth took his first steps. It felt odd, not using his magic to drop in and out of wherever in the Labyrinth he chose. Instead he plugged along, the heals of his boots clicking off the stone beneath his feet.

By the end of his first hour, Jareth had yet to come across any secret passage ways that would take him deeper through the Labyrinth. "Insane," he shouted.

"Please don't shout!"

Jareth's head turned left and right searching for the source of the request. "Who said that?"

"Down here."

At his feet there was a snow white bunny rabbit. No larger than an average cat he sat there staring up at Jareth, two pink eyes surrounded by tufts of white fur. "A bunny!"

"Correction," small lips beneath a twitching nose formed the words, "I'm not just a bunny. I am the bunny, the Easter Bunny and these ears are very sensitive."

"What are you doing in my Labyrinth?"

"Your highness, if I were you, I would stop taking for granted that you can accomplish all things without the assistance of others."

"And if I were you, I would stop wasting my time," Jareth told him.

"Suit yourself," the bunny shrugged. "Gandor sent me to help you in your journey though the maze, but if you don't need my help, I'll just go back to the coop and keep getting ready for next year."

"Gandor. The representative of the southwestern sector?"

"Do you know some other Gandor?" the rabbit was already hoping away from the king.

"Why would Gandor send anyone to help me?" Jareth wondered aloud.

Still hopping away, the rabbit said, "Beats me. He said something about things here being a lot better with you not being so preoccupied."

"Really." Jareth ran a gloved finger across his chin. "Well then rabbit, lead on, by all means."

"Hope you can keep up." He hopped away at lightning speed, leaving Jareth running behind him at his best pace still barely able to keep the creature in his sights. After nearly a mile of hard running, the two stopped before an urn in the corner of one of the Labyrinth's dead ends.

"A lot of good you've done me!" Jareth growled between gasps to replenish his oxygen supply.

"Have faith Goblin King," the bunny replied. "Crawl inside the urn and follow the ladder to the bottom. If you can make it through the hall of riddles, you'll be half way through the Labyrinth in just under an hour."

"For your sake, Easter bunny, I hope you're right. Otherwise, I'll find you and put you out of my misery."

"It would kill you to just say thank you?"

Jareth grunted as he slid his legs into the urn. His long stride took the rungs two at a time until he felt himself on solid ground once again. It was pitch black all around him. "It's an oubliette! That overgrown cotton ball led me straight into an oubliette!" He moaned, "Argh, and I fell for it. Damned Gandor, probably part of some plan to take my castle, well I won't have it!" He threw down his arms.

"Ouch," something cried as his flailing arm made contact with its entire body.

As it slammed against the wall, a spark lit up the darkness. Jareth tried to spy a glimpse of what it was, but it was useless. Before he could focus the glow was gone. The Goblin King felt something tickle his face and moved to swat it away. Then he remembered how he had just knocked something senseless. "Mind giving us some light then," he asked.

"Glad to oblige king, but first you must solve our riddle." A choir of small voices responded to his request.

The Goblin King was not much for riddles unless they worked to his advantage, but it seemed as though these riddles were his best chance at getting back to Sarah and regaining his magic. "Bring on your riddle."

"What begins its life on four legs," a choir by his right ear began.

"Lives its life on two legs," a second choir near his nose continued.

"And ends it's life on three legs," a final choir above him said.

Jareth thought a moment of all the creatures in his Labyrinth and all the creatures of his kingdom. Not a one seemed to fit such an odd description. 'Perhaps I'm being a bit narrow-minded' he considered. There was a chorus of laughter about him. "What are you laughing at?" he asked angrily.

"If it takes you this long to answer the easiest of the bunch, you may have taken the wrong shortcut."

"I will not be laughed at," he stated coldly trying to find someplace to direct his focus, but no matter how he turned all shades of black were the same.

"You're King of the Goblins, ruler of the Underground, Jareth. Here in the Labyrinth we follow a command of our own so to say." The voice came from nowhere and everywhere all at once. It surrounded Jareth and it vibrated from within him. "Especially those of us in the more remote locations."

"Who is that?"

"I'm the voice of all your father's fathers. I have seen and done everything since there was nothing. You will not ask the questions here, you will only answer."

The mighty Goblin King fumbled for his words. He had felt much power in the voice that surrounded him. Certainly more than he had right now. Just knowing such a presence could detect him and tune into his thoughts that way made him feel small and naked. There was no doubt that he needed to get his head together. "Begins on four, lives on two and finishes on three." He repeated it several times. There in the dark, his thoughts turned to the mortal. Suddenly the answer seamed clear, "Man."

All around him hundreds of tiny lights began to flicker in the darkness. "Well done," they chimed. Jareth watched the fire fairies buzzing around. They continued to giggle as he fought back the thought that it was him they laughed at. "Follow us," a tiny one at the back whispered. Before he had time to object, he was creeping behind them, desperate for the light they were providing.

"Where are we going?"

"Patience king."

"I really haven't the time for games," Jareth stated firmly, his goal at hand consuming his thoughts.

"There are times when one must take detours from what they wish to learn in order to learn what they must." The voice was warm and Jareth looked toward its source. The figure sat in a throne five times as royal and ten times as large as the one he left in Hoggle's care.

"My Lord," Jareth bowed before him. Laughter filled his ears, a few hundred tiny giggles and one deep belly laugh that echoed from the walls.

"Rise child. I am not your Lord, though the compliment is much appreciated." A smile was still set on the lips of the giant. It could be clearly seen safely tucked between his snow white mustache and long full beard. "Come now up, up, up. The sooner you solve my riddle the sooner you can finish this Labyrinth Jareth."

"How do you know my name?"

"The same way you know mine. We're a bit of legend you and I." He bent his head down to come closer to the Goblin King.

"But I don't know..."

"On with this then. Until I am measured I am not known, but how I am missed once I have flown."

"Time," Jareth said almost instantly. "You're Father Time."

"And you are correct on both counts." More of the giant's thunderous laughter came and went.

"What do you mean both counts." The Goblin King was beginning to hate these riddles more and more.

"I mean I am Father Time and you have solved my riddle. You may pass." With that the giant rose and a door opened in the base of his throne. It was plenty big for Jareth to fit through, but he just stood there mumbling about not having given an answer to any riddle.

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," one of the fire fairies said as they buzzed passed his ear and through the door. A group of fifty or so pushed into his back attempting to urge him forward.

"But, I didn't..." The door shut behind the last of the fire fairies and Father Times laughter could still be heard. "I didn't even answer him," Jareth confessed now that they were through.

A fire fairy intentionally flew into the side of his head, "We know you didn't intend to, but the answer to the riddle was time." Their tiny giggles setting each other off in a round robin.

Jareth rolled his eyes, "I knew that, I just think it would have be nice if he would have let me answer him properly." His excuse only served to increase their laughter until one of the older fairies began to continue through the tunnel and the others followed suit.

The party continued until they came to a large stone wall. "What am I supposed to do about this?" Jareth asked throwing his hands up in the air.

"We'll help you look for a lever or a switch," a few fairies yelled out.

Jareth had already begun feeling over the wall's face looking for something himself and told them with a fair amount of irritation in his voice that their assistance was less than necessary, but just as he had finished chastising the little fellows he lifted his head and an amazing sight caught his eye. The illumination they gave off as they flew about was making words carved into the stone quite apparent. Jareth changed his tone immediately, "Fly up near the wall, space out a bit." Each fairy stopped and stared at him without budging to comply with his demand. "Well." Still nothing. "Please," he muttered, "please would you space out around the wall?"

"But of course your highness," they chimed as they took their places around the hidden text.

He read the words aloud, "Each morning I appear to lie at your feet. All day I will follow no matter where you go, no matter how fast you run, but I shall nearly perish in the noon day sun." Jareth began to pace back and forth before the wall. His fingers rubbed his chin in frustration. Hanging his head he stared at his shoes. "Appear to lie at my feet," he repeated. A few of the fairies began to imitate him. Pacing behind him just over his shoulders. He stopped. They stopped. He turned about to face them agitated by their mockery. The ones closest to him, smiled and pointed down. Jareth looked at the dark spot on the floor. He moved his hands and the spot changed to. By now, even the Goblin King was laughing, "My shadow," he cried kicking his legs around as his murky reflection did the same.

The wall began to recede. Quite pleased with himself, Jareth led his entourage through the newly opened passage way. In fact he was so preoccupied with his success that he failed to notice that his shadow had fled despite the promises the riddle had made him. Jareth continued on in the tunnel completely unaware of the deserter. They hadn't gone more than 75 feet or so when they came upon a tiny door which wouldn't have accommodated Jareth's foot let alone his entire stature. "How my going through that then?" he asked.

"Suppose you won't be," one of the fairies said.

"Guess you best think up something else," said another.

"I imagine one of you might be small enough to fit through," Jareth hinted.

"Suppose we might," yet another of the fairies agreed.

"If someone were to ask," another added.

"Nicely," contributed a fourth.

"Yes, well would one of you please try the door and let me know what's on the other side," he found himself conceding to their wishes.

"Come on gang," one cried and within moments they were all rushing through the door.

"Wait a minute," Jareth screamed after them as his side of the door was getting darker and darker. "Why do all of you need to go?"

"Because that is the way it is done," one of the last remaining fairies commented.

The tiny door shut and Jareth sat alone in the dark once more. After about five minutes he grew impatient and began to shout for them. Sadly the words did not travel well and bounced off the room he was now completely alone in. He began to beat on the wall that separated them, "Hello? Can you hear me?"

It took all of them shouting at the same time for him to hear their reply. "Yes, yes. The riddle is on this side of the wall."

"Well than read it to me," Jareth shouted his own voice pummeling his ears once again.

"Ready?"

Growing frustrated he replied, "Yes! YES!"

"You've heard me before, yet you hear me again, then I die until you call me again."

"Argh!" he shouted yet again. This time he was alone and could swing his arms without worry. Jareth took advantage of the opportunity. "Argh...argh...argh..." It repelled back at him. Just the clue he needed. "Echo!" He was laughing now himself. Laughing, loud and full. In fact he was bent over holding his knees when the door began to enlarge. "Remarkable," he commented as he walked through rejoining the fire fairies who were still providing the much needed light for him to complete his mission. "Thank you," he said as he rejoined them.

Together they plodded onward. They were going down, deeper into the Underearth. The ground was getting softer beneath the feet of the king and he couldn't help but notice that his boots were sticking with each step. Before long the party found themselves coming upon a pond. It stretched the entire width of the tunnel. Jareth picked up a handful of pebbles that were lie along the tunnel and tossed them into the center of the pond. It was deep, deeper than he could walk across.

"Swim across then," some of the fairies suggested.

"I do not swim."

"Do not or cannot?" another group inquired.

"Regardless," he said timidly.

The fire fairies began to link together and span the pond, "Perhaps we can help you with this one."

Bewildered, he stared at them. What they were doing was fascinating. Before his eyes a bridge was forming. "What am I supposed to do now?" he asked as the last few took their spots.

"Walk across," they chimed.

"I'll crush you," he objected his voice filled with concern.

"Learn to trust Goblin King. We are far stronger than we appear."

A certain amount of hesitation was evident in his rigid form as he raised a foot. The first step was wary, but with each succession ease set in. Sighing heavily, he touched down on the opposite side of the pond. Something about the flickering lights mirrored in the water drew his attention and he gazed into the pool. "Uncanny," he said as he flicked his head back and forth between the water and the fairies which flew above it. Their tiny lights were forming words in the water despite their haphazard flight patterns. "You can see nothing else when you look in my face. I will look you in the eye and never tell you a lie." Jareth buried his face in his hands. "Have I mentioned that I hate riddles."

"Look again. The answer is before your eyes." They were comforting him, an emotion the king had not experienced often in the hundreds of years he'd bee alive.

Carefully he hung himself over the water's edge and peered into the water once more. "I don't see anything more than my own reflection," he said. "My reflection!" It came over him and brought more laughter with it. Despite what he had claimed about not enjoying riddles. It had been some time since the Goblin King had laughed like this. "Come," he called to his companions, suddenly filled with great eagerness, "let us continue."

It was much more difficult struggling up the hill than it had been to work his way down. Jareth found himself envying the little creatures for their wings. At the crest of the hill he could see a large metal door and it gave him the added encouragement he needed to press on. At the top, he bent over trying to catch his breath. "Much easier to go down," he said sparking a chorus of giggling from above.

The fairies moved around the door looking for the riddle. Finally someone cried, "Over here." The rest all came to look and light the way. "What's it say?"

Jareth eyed the plaque carefully, brushing away some dust before he read the inscription, "If you break me, I do not stop working. If you touch me, I may be snared. If you lose me, nothing will matter." The eyes of the Goblin King grew dark. All about him the fairies chattered, trying to help solve the riddle.

"Your highness," they finally said, "regrettably, we are unable to help you with your challenge."

A soft grey glove rose toward them and Jareth turned his head away, "Regrettably I do not require your assistance for I only too well know the solution to this mystery." There was a pause and in the darkness he hid so that his other glove could wipe away a tear from his left eye. "The answer is your heart."

Floating before them came a gold key with a long red tassel attached to the handle. Jareth reached out and roughly snatched it, his anger at showing emotion getting the better of him. Shoving it into the keyhole between the metal doors he gave the thing a turn and stepped back. The room before him was filled with light. The fire fairies went dim.

Ahead Jareth could see two torches lighting a stone staircase. Feeling confident, he took a few steps toward it. It became clear to him that none of the creatures who had accompanied him this far were moving. He turned to face them, "Guess I'll go this one alone," he smiled. For the first time in longer than he remembered, the Goblin King smiled a genuine smile. Turning to leave, he made it only a few steps before he paused once more, "Thank you." This time he wasn't just saying. This time the words dripped with sincerity. Jareth's words were clear and as foreign to the ears of the creatures in the Labyrinth as they had been to his own mouth. This journey was already changing him. With the burdens of ruling a kingdom lifted, with no magic for him to hide behind, it was easy to be kind. There was nothing to defend.

Ascending the stairs, Jareth began to fear the power that he felt. It was the same sensation that had overcome him back when the first riddle had begun. That same booming sound that filled all the space between them. Light bathed over him in lavender hues that seemed to soothe him. It felt warm, a soft breeze seeming to run through the space, kissing at Jareth's face like a million pixies. His fear started to fade away. More gently than before, the voice called to him, "Goblin King?"

"Yes."

"Do you know who I am now?" it asked him.

Jareth had some idea what it was he stood before. "Is that my riddle?"

"I don't engage in things quite so silly as riddles, son. In truth, whether you answered each of my pets riddles correctly or not, it is I who has the power to pass you through and I ask only one thing of you."

There was amazing morality in his voice as he spoke and it frightened Jareth in an entirely new way. One that made him fear not for his life, but for his soul. "Anything you ask of me I shall do," he vowed lowering a knee to the ground.

"You have done it already. You have learned to rely on others, you have learned to show gratitude." It was true. His final thanks to the fire fairies had been sincere. "I would have thought it would have killed you."

"Rabbit, is that you?"

Laughter filled the chasm and shook the walls. "I am indeed. I am the Rabbit. I am Santa Clause. I am everything mythical and everything mortal. I am the sun and the moon and the tide that guides them all." Jareth felt a lump in his throat. "Do not fear me. I have made you and I could never destroy one of my own creations. I have made you capable of love Jareth, King of the Goblins. I think you believe that now and I shall also make you free, free of this tunnel."

"I confided only to the Cleric that I felt those things," his voice wavered.

"Even when you confide in only yourself, I hear. I hear all things. The wind is my servant."

"As am I." Jareth vowed, "As am I." His eyes closed and when the light faded he opened them again, only to find himself standing in an open patch in the Labyrinth. Stunned he looked all around. Sun's golden rays replaced the lavender softness that had held him. Jareth blinked a few times trying to adjust to the change.

"Who goes there?" a small voice requested.

"King of the Goblins," he replied.

From behind a topiary came a small fox. His unruly ivory white whiskers and brows furrowed in deep concern. "I feel that I must warn you, sire, that I am sworn to protect the Lady Sarah from anyone, anywhere, anytime."

"So you are," Jareth chuckled bending down to meet him eye to eye. "Fear not dutiful knight, you've no one to protect from me." Sir Didymus examined him suspiciously. "It's true. I have no magic to use against her. The lady has nothing to fear."

Raising his scepter over his head, Sir Didymus brought a mighty thump down upon Jareth's white blonde mane. The king stood, rubbing his head and scowling at the tiny antagonizer. From behind him came a throaty chuckle, more like a roar. He turned to find Ludo, a hand on one knee, trying to suppress his laughter.

"You find that humorous great beast?" Jareth asked him.

"It's true. The king is without his magic," Sir Didymus announced.

"King baaad," Ludo moaned.

"My good brother, our king has changed." Sir Didymus scurried up to Ludo's shoulder. "The day was when such insubordination against the king would result in death, but as you see, I am very much alive." Grabbing two handfuls of fur he swung himself down from the giant and stood at the feet of the king. "What business have you with milady?"

"How do you know my business is with the mortal?"

"Word spreads quickly in this maze, my liege. Everyone is aware you hunt the mortal. Vowed to kill her in her sleep the way..." Sir Didymus stopped suddenly.

"The way my grandfather murdered his brother?" Jareth completed the thought for him. "Is that what they say?"

"King baaad," Ludo repeated.

The fox nodded to the king. "My but it didn't take long for them to turn my family's past against me."

"Then what is it you intend to do?"

"Sir Didymus, I wish to see Sarah so that I may ask her to restore my magic. If she agrees, I will return to my world without further inconvenience."

"And were milady to disagree?"

Sadly, Jareth hung his head, "I would lose far more than my magic."

"Ludo miss Sar - rah," Ludo whined.

"When you see milady," Sir Didymus began, "please tell her that we miss her ten fold and would be happy to pay her a visit, if she were only to call."

Jareth reached a hand out to the small fox. "Indeed I shall kind knight." He turned to Ludo, "and you gentle beast, it was a pleasure." He took his leave of the two and began his quest again.

"Best of luck to you," he heard Sir Didymus shout.

The king chuckled, "Luck, I don't need luck," he declared.

No sooner did the words fall from his lips, did the king himself fall through the floor. The stones seemed to part and swallow him up and he was gently tumbling down. He could see nothing in any direction, only a light below that got closer and closer. 'I wonder if this fall shall ever end,' he thought after several minutes.

Beneath him the light grew sharper and he could make out the mantle of a fireplace. With a thud he landed on the overstuffed cushions of a green marble leather sofa. "Oof!" he exclaimed. A few seconds later he realized where he was. "I'm back at the beginning, back in my chambers. That's not fair! I was over halfway through, why did you bring me back here," he yelled into the vaulted ceiling.

From the master bath there came a form. Tall and regal, dressed all in black. A high collared coat, framing his face. Even his hair was dark. He took long slow strides towards where Jareth sat. Now in the fire light, Jareth looked up into his own eyes. His mouth went agape. "Will wonders never cease?" the Shadow King remarked. "Look at you, you pathetic excuse for a king. I should have taken you over years ago."

"You're not real," Jareth told his double. "You're just a trick of the Labyrinth, some magic designed to detain and discourage me."

"I am the Labyrinth. I am that thing you cannot control. All evil things you do and think are mine. I am your bloodlust. I am your shadow." Jareth looked down, finally noticing that his shadow no longer sat at heels.

So this is where his shadow ran off to when they were in the middle of that tunnel. Jareth rose a gloved hand to his nemesis, "You are not king. But I am and as king I forbid you."

"You forbid me what?"

"That is all, I forbid you."

The Shadow King roared again with uncontrollable laughter, "You forbid be. Your mortal blood has given you conceit. You cannot deny me Jareth. I am as much a part of you as your own skin." Which for Jareth was now beginning to crawl. "You must wonder if you could destroy me and still survive." He reached high above the mantel and brought down the iron sword. "Let me make it easy for you." Holding the sword by both the hilt and blade, the Shadow King tossed it to Jareth, "Go on. Plunge it into my heart and I will die."

Jareth rolled the sword at his side, the point of the blade making powder of the marble floor beneath them. "It goes against the code to engage an unarmed man."

"You can't do it Jareth." he spat. "You could no more pierce my heart with your grandfather's iron blade than you could pierce your own. We are two sides of the same coin. Without me, you would lose what little edge you have. Without me to consume them, your evil thoughts would devour you."

Again he shouted, "You're not real!"

The Shadow King laughed heartily, "And you, Jareth, how are you enjoying my Labyrinth?"

"It's a piece of cake," he tried to say convincingly.

"Then how about upping the stakes," with a wave he spun the hands of the nearby clock ahead four hours.

"That's not fair," Jareth said.

"You say that so often," the form retaliated, "I wonder what your basis for comparison is." The Shadow King tipped his head as he walked passed the king. "So the Labyrinth's a piece of cake is it? Well, let's see how you deal with this little slice." He released a crystal on the far side of the chambers and disappeared. As it came closer, Jareth made out the form of the cleaners. 'Had he really been this cruel to Sarah when she tried to work the Labyrinth?' Jareth thought. With haste he picked up the sword still at his side and pulled it back over his left shoulder. One mighty swing struck the door leading out of the bed chamber. Then another. The hinges were beginning to give way.

"Third times a charm," Jareth said, replacing the sword to his shoulder and swinging with all that he had. As the blade made contact with the hinges one last time, it vanished from the king's hands. Desperately he pushed his weight against the door, but to his surprise was met with no opposition and the Goblin King stumbled out, back into another of the Labyrinth's interior halls. He whipped his head back over his shoulder in search of the cleaners. Only a stone wall remained. A second later something in front of him caught his attention.

"Allo," a small voice cheered.

"Did you just say, 'allo?" Jareth asked, face to face with a tiny blue worm.

"Yeah, I did," he confirmed. "Tea's on, care to join me and the missus?"

"No really I mustn't." Jareth raised himself to his knees and elbows.

Offended, the little worm chastised him, "Now listen here. You can't just come tumbling through someone's perfectly good wall and not stay for tea." The worm crawled through his hole and Jareth watched wondering how the little fellow expected him to follow. A moment later, the tiny creature peeked out again, "Sorry 'bout that. Very rude of me not to point out the guest entrance." He gave a nod to a recession in the wall a foot or so away from his worm hole. Warily Jareth crawled through. The king stood, amazed at how high the ceilings were in a home made for creatures less than two inches tall. "Careful now, you almost stepped on the guest chair," his host pointed out from a ledge he crawled along that kept him eye level with the king.

"So sorry," Jareth said.

"Well than have a seat, Goblin King."

"You know me then," he commented.

"Doesn't every creature of the Labyrinth?"

"And you might be?" he asked the worm.

"I'm Winston." He gestured toward the guest chair as he began to descend the wall so that he might join his guest. "Have a seat. Jena will be along with the tea in just a moment."

Jareth looked at the chair and then back at Winston. The chair was tinier than Jareth's fingertip. "Go on, go on," the worm encouraged, "you'll see."

Stooping over the chair Jareth did his best not to fall. Suddenly he felt the chair rise up to meet his backside and slid comfortably into the seat. Once seated, it became apparent that the worm's home was a series of ledges designed so its inhabitants could accommodate guests of all sizes. Winston made himself comfortable to Jareth's right, just inside his peripheral vision. He was glad he could still maintain eye contact with his host, after all, he'd already offended him once by attempting to leave when he was asked in for tea. "Quite nice," Jareth remarked smoothing the arms of the chair.

"It's our pleasure to have you," Winston said smiling wide.

Jena bowed her head before the king. "Your grace. How would you like your tea?"

"A splash of cream and two lumps," Jareth replied. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," she said, using some silk threads she had spun to lift the cup toward the king. Much like the chair accommodated him, the teacup grew to size when accepted by his palm.

The three talked on for two more cups of tea, before Jareth adamantly excused himself. "It's not that I don't appreciate your hospitality, it's only that I have just a few more hours to complete my task. This rest has served me well." When he stood to leave the chair shrunk to barely noticeable again. Winston walked him to another wall. Jareth bowed to Jena, "Milady," and extend his hand to Winston.

Winston eyeballed him for a second until Jareth realized that he had nothing to shake. They both enjoyed a laugh. "Anyway, my thanks again for your hospitality." Laying his hand against the wall he slid it to the left until it met with the opening. Then proceeded through and turned left.

"Not that way," Winston cried. "Never go that way!"

Jareth thought a moment about turning around and going right, but remembered what he had learned. Don't go off half-cocked, rely on others. "Why is that Winston?"

"If you keep on going that way, you'll wind up outside the Labyrinth at the doors to the Aboveground."

The Goblin King pointed a gloved finger at his new friend, "Ah, and that is precisely where I want to be," he smiled.

"Suit yourself."

"I believe I shall," Jareth remarked stepping back out through the wall and continuing left. The tunnel went on forever, so it seemed. Jareth wondered if Winston was wrong. "Have a little faith Goblin King," he chuckled to himself.

It was five minutes past four and his time was growing short. In three hours and twenty minutes he would fail. Leaning against the wall discouraged, Jareth thought things through. He would still have to make his way through Sarah's world until he found his mortal. He could only guess at how long it would take him. "I've got to find my way out of here."

He began running down the corridor, almost two miles later, still no exit. But he had noticed his shadow back at his feet. While he was at a stand still , he took the opportunity to ground his foot into the darkness, stomping on it. "Back were you belong I see," he muttered. Jareth was overlooking something. He felt at the walls. Nothing. Jumped at the stone floor. Nothing still. "Argh," he screamed into the sky. When he lowered his head he found himself facing the back of a dressing table. "Can't be this easy," Jareth thought. He walked around to face the mirror side of the table. All around it's frame, he could see her photographs. Her mother, her father. Smiles and newspaper clippings that told the story of a life he shared for a few short hours. He focused on the glass and spoke her name, "Sarah."

The reflective glass went hazy before his mismatched eyes. When things began to clear, there were mad streets polluted with vehicles of all sizes, large buildings rising up in the horizon, a sky of stars just beginning to pull out night's blanket. Jareth rose his hand to touch the glass. His fingers pushed through and on the other side he felt a cold breeze blow across his hand. The king pulled back a moment. 'This is going to be interesting,' he thought as he sized up the situation. First Jareth tried to lay the piece of furniture down on it's back, but it seemed drilled into the ground. Then he tried removing the mirror, but without tools or magic, it was no use. He feared that breaking the piece apart, would allow the magic to escape. And so with all other options depleted, he backed up several paces, charged at the mirror and dove head first into the glass. Shards flew in all directions and the Goblin King was gone, swallowed up from the top of his high blonde mane to the tip of his black leather boots.


	8. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN - AUDITION FOR TWO**

The dress had pleased her when she tried it on at the shop, but now together with her manicured hands and her done up mane, Sarah was blown away. A high cowl neck swooped beneath her chin, just low enough to show off her collarbones. Sleeveless, it revealed her milky shoulders. A tight fitting bodice showed her figure and from the waist the ruby sequined fabric cascaded fluidly toward the floor. Beneath the hem, only the tips of black high heels poked out. But what amazed her most was the way it flattered her from behind. The back was cut out, coming together low at the waist, gathered in another swooping cowl neck that rested just on top of her rump. A high slit up the center of her skirt was the final compliment.

"Eponine was a pauper's daughter, not a whore," Christian commented from the bedroom doorway.

Sarah troubled herself to look at him while she slid a tiny diamond stud into her ear, "Jealousy is ugly on you."

"Yeah, well, be that as it may, I thought you'd like to know that I'll be moving out the day after tomorrow."

The news surprised her. In truth, she hadn't intended things to go this far. It was one thing to finally confess her true feelings, but another for him to leave. "Is that what you want?"

"It's what you want, isn't it?" he asked her. Part of him begged her with his eyes to say no. The last 24 hours had given him a chance to see how much she really did do for him and the last five minutes staring at her in that fantastically revealing dress was reminding him what she did for him in other ways. But in his heart, she could have easily said yes just the same. He'd move on, find someone else. Teach them to treat him as the man he saw himself to be.

Sarah didn't expect an ultimatum. Yet there he was, leaning against the door, trying to appear cavalier, telling her that it was either ask him to stay or say goodbye forever. "Christian, I'm heading out to meet my agent for a rehearsal before the audition. Can't we talk about this when I get back?"

"Sure," he said cheerfully. "I'm just going to shoot some pool with my brother. I'm sure I won't be out all that much later than you."

'Maybe this has done him some good' she thought as she picked up a black satin clutch from her dresser. 'With a little luck we can have that civil conversation I was hoping for tonight and put this whole ugly mess behind us.' Sheer pale lips met his cheek as she walked past him toward the living room.

"Good luck," he shouted as the door closed. Then he fell to the bed, holding up his head with his hands, "Glad she came around. Would have been a bitch trying to train another one."

Jareth's hands rose just fast enough to keep his face from connecting with the sidewalk he landed on. Street lights shown down into the alleyway he appeared in. No one seemed to take much notice, even though he remained in his Underground garb. He stood up, brushing himself off. The night wind blew cool against his revealed chest. For a moment he stopped to wish he'd packed something a bit more conducive to the conditions. Then it was off into a maze of another kind. Towering stone walls traded in for a city's grid work.

It felt somehow larger than the Labyrinth or perhaps just more unfamiliar, but there was that same feeling of uncertainty. Not knowing which direction to head off in first or what the ultimate goal was, those were the familiarities. Bright lights were everywhere and yet the city was dark. Mortals lined the streets all on journeys of their own. There was dancing and singing. For a moment it occurred to Jareth that much of the human race behaved like fey. They enjoyed similar entertainments, libations and smoking. The culture distracted him for a moment. When he refocused on his mortal in specific, he thought, 'how odd his Sarah should live in such a place as this. ' Seemed as if only yesterday he sat on the post by the lake watching her recite from her book. Until the sky opened up and drenched them both as they flew through and over rural suburbia to the mortal castle she shared with her father, step-mother and half brother.

Had she really come from such a creamy beige beginning to this place, filled with its decadent colors and luscious textures, polluted by the same depravity they found dancing at the Underground ball. Sarah had fled that night, terrified by it all. Now she craved it or so it would seem. Jareth looked around for someone to ask questions of. They all seemed preoccupied. Talking into plastic hand pieces, shouting at each other, lovers kissed, hands venturing where even the brazen Goblin King dared only to go in the privacy of a bed chamber.

Turning the corner, he met into something solid. "Junk lady," he said curiously. There was a heap before him, cradled in a metal basket and mounted on wheels.

From the other side of the heap someone shouted back, "Who you calling junk lady?"

If he could be nothing else, the Goblin King could be charming, "Pardon me miss." He reached to take her hand, dropping a kiss on the back of it. Too bad fey had such a heightened senses. Not since his last visit close to the Bog of Eternal Stench had he smelled anything so fragrant. "I came 'round that corner in such haste that your petite frame escaped my vision entirely," Jareth told her, the woman's sausage fingers still in his grasp.

At this the woman giggled a bit, pulling away her hand to coyly cover her face. "Well you should watch where your going," she said with only mock irritation this time.

"Problem is I don't know where I'm going?"

"Whatcha mean you don't know where you're going?"

A nervous laugh replaced his silent smile. "It's true, dear woman," he spoke gently, "I haven't a clue where I'm going, or where I am for that matter?" She cocked one of her eyebrows at him. Jareth couldn't help thinking that if humans aged as fey did, this junk lady had to feel a thousand years old. When her eyes moved all the wrinkles of her face jumped with them. But beneath it all he saw something young and tender that had been mistreated. The streets grew cold in a new way.

"You're one of those new fangled method actors ain't ya?"

The Goblin King's head moved in a slow nod. He was still fascinated by what he saw inside this weathered woman.

"I thought so," she smiled showing a few missing teeth. "Now let me give you a bit of advice, the eighties are over. Although it never hurts to make an impression in New York, I'd say lose the teased my mullet look, but in those clothes, well they just might take you at the Peppermill."

"They call this New York?" he asked not hearing anything else.

"Oh, yeah, I get it." She reached into her cart, "Listen honey, don't waste it all on me." She pulled out a business card and handed it to Jareth. "Now if you hurry along and wait at the back door, when the auditions are over they throw out all the hors d'oeuvres and you can try to get their attention then."

It came to him then that this was not the life she'd chosen. She did not live in the street, collecting junk the way his junk lady in the Underground did. Instead she lived by the street, everything she owned was in this cart between them. Sorrow filled him.

"Can't get in the front door without an appointment," she told him, mistaking the look of compassion for one of offense. Her hand reached out to him again, this time a small spinach square in her palm. "Go on, they were throwing them out of the club across the street. I got four of them myself."

Raising a black leather glove and donning a crooked smile, Jareth politely said, "No thank you. I just ate yesterday."

"Well you don't have to brag about it," she grumbled as she pushed her cart away.

If he'd have had his magic, he'd have done something for the kind woman. Maybe even make her outside appearance reflect what he saw inside. Looking down at the card she'd given him, Jareth spun it end over end. In the back of his subconscious he heard an echo, "Learn to rely on others."

"In that case," the Goblin King wondered aloud, "I wonder how one gets to East 16th from here."

"I can't do this Stuart," Sarah shrieked as she stepped into the rehearsal hall.

He poured a glass of water and handed it to her, "You're just nervous because it's been so long since you've auditioned for something this huge."

Gulps of water soothed her throat. Stuart was garish, like all agents, but he really believed in Sarah and when he spoke to her, she fed off his confidence. Setting her glass down, she smoothed her hands over her dress. 'You can't look like this if you don't intend to steal the show,' she told herself. Sarah took her place at the microphone and from the first note Stuart knew he would showcase a star tonight. The smile that spread across his lips was one part confidence and one part cocky.

"You can't lose Sarah," Stuart told her, taking her hand to help her down from the rehearsal stage. "Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight? Something's different about you and I don't just mean a new dress and shoes."

Embarrassed by his compliment, she looked away. "Nothing, it's nothing. I just know how much I need to ace this audition. I'm putting my best foot forward."

"Well it's bringing the best of the rest of you along for the ride." Sarah fed her arm through Stuart's extended elbow and allowed him to steer her toward the main stage. "Go on," he gave her a little shove. "Try it out. We're still half an hour ahead of the producer. Get used to the way it feels now and by the time you sing you'll be able to act like you own it."

Her heals clicked on the polished planks that made up the stage. It was the largest stage she'd ever stood on. Even bigger than the one she graced when she was dancing CATS. Fear strangled her as she looked out into all the empty seats. Les Misérables was no small show. If Sarah got the part those seats would be full, full of people with high expectations for her. Could she live up to that kind of pressure night after night, performance after performance. She closed her eyes. At first she felt like she might cry. Tears were threatening beneath her lids, but a very unexpected thing chased them away. All around her Sarah could see the set dressing for the show. She could see spotlights mimicking streetlights behind their yellow gels. She spun in circles her arms outreached taking hold of light posts that weren't really there, "On my own..." she sang.

Stuart stood in amazement listening to the power in her voice. It was a new confidence that hadn't been there before and it wasn't coming from him either. This was coming from Sarah. She radiated like a beacon in the night sky and he had watched her come alive tonight. As she finished the first verse, his hands met in thunderous applause. "Brava," he cried.

Eyes snapped open and did the best they could to focus on the one man house that had brought an end to her show. Sarah gasped. If ever she had believed in magic. The room around her was still empty, the stage dark, the seats unfilled. Maybe Hoggle was right, she needed to believe in magic and more importantly, she needed to believe in herself. "There's no way they won't pick me," she yelped into the rafters as she thought to herself, 'had anything in life ever felt this good."

City block after city block Jareth read the street signs, he surveyed the buildings. His fey hearing was alert and sensitive. A half dozen young men were only a couple of blocks away, perhaps they could tell him where to find this Peppermill Theater described on the card he still held in his hand. As Jareth got closer to the men he could see that they wore jeans and leather jackets. Each of them was smoking a cigarette and three of them had beer bottles in their hands. He glanced down at himself, "This ought to be good for a laugh," he said continuing his approach. "Begging your pardon, but might any of you be able to tell me the way to the Peppermill?"

"Yeah man I can show you the way to the Peppermill," one of them called out.

"Splendid!"

"Get back on the yellow brick road and don't stop until everything around you is black and white." His statement was followed by laughter and pointing.

"Yellow brick, really, I've only seen red bricks in my travels through your city."

His naivety only made them laugh harder. One of the men who'd been holding a beer bottle was now on the ground. "What they don't let you use the dressing rooms anymore, now you chumps gotta parade the streets in your costumes?" A fresh face came walking out of the shadows toward the Goblin King. He looked a little softer than the rest of them. He tossed his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out.

"Yes, that's it! I've been locked out of my dressing room and I've got to get back to the theater, but I've gotten myself lost." Jareth made up an explanation as quickly as he could.

"Don't buy his shit Tony," one of the others cried out. "He's just like the rest of them, coming down here acting like they're better than we are because they play in those fancy theaters. You could out sing one of those bastards any day of the week."

"Tony, your name is Tony," Jareth said. "I'm sure you sing like a lark, but I really just need to get to the Peppermill."

"Whatta ya say we make a deal tall, blonde and hairy?" He prowled around Jareth, eyeing him up and down, making it a point to show that for now he had the upper hand. Jareth took him rather seriously. Quarreling with a mortal, correction with seven mortals, broke the Triumvirate's rules.

"I'm listening," the Goblin King arched an eyebrow.

"My uncle's shop is right in there," Tony pointed behind himself. "He's a tailor. I'll get him to give you something normal to wear and in exchange you'll take me to the Peppermill with you and get me an audition."

"An audition?" Jareth asked.

Tony grabbed the lapels of the Goblin King's jacket and pulled him eye to eye, "You think I ain't good enough?"

"No, no, no. I'm sure you're plenty good. An audition it is then."

"Let's go," the young man said leading Jareth into his uncle's shop.

There were suits of all styles from tuxedos to tab collars and back again. Jareth's gloves smoothed over the shoulders of a grey herringbone jacket. Tony and his uncle had been talking in the corner and the older gentleman approached his newest customer, "My boy tells me you're getting him into the Peppermill."

"I suppose I am," Jareth told him.

"Names Vic," he grinned extending his hand.

The Goblin King shook it firmly, "Jareth," he replied.

"What kind of name is Jareth?" the old man laughed.

"Guess you might say it's a family name."

Vic heard something in the way he pronounced his a's, "You got an accent something awful."

"I'm not native to New York," Jareth told him.

"Well no one will know that when I finish with you," Vic took the herringbone jacket off the mannequin. "Take off your jacket." Jareth removed his coat. His blousy painter's shirt ruffled down his chest, the sleeves covering his gloves. "I can see we're going to have to start at the basement and work our way up. "Tony," he called, "bring your uncle a shirt, a sixteen."

The young man who seemed to dominate his friends was instantly on the heals of his uncle. Tony was already half dressed. He was wearing brown suit pants a cream colored shirt tucked into the waist band. His cuffs were unbuttoned and his collar raised, a silk tie around his shoulders. "Here ya go," he announced as he passed the shirt to his uncle.

Jareth slid out of his more elaborate clothing and into the plain white shirt being shoved into his hands. He buttoned three of the buttons and fussed with the collar. "Doesn't seem to hang right," he told Vic.

Screwing his face up, the tailor looked at Jareth before he did up the rest of the buttons and turned up the collar. The Goblin King grabbed at the collar and pouted out his lips, "The neck is too tight," he complained.

"It's fine," Vic told him. "Now, let's find you a nice tie to go with this jacket." Once the tailor had moved, Jareth caught sight of himself in a mirror on the wall. It wasn't so bad, not like he thought it would be. He tugged on the sleeves, "I can make this work."

"Here you are," the old man tossed the strip of silk over his head. It was black and had a subtle silver design running through it. The knot jabbed him in the throat but once Vic turned down the collar, it grew more comfortable. Holding up the grey herringbone once more, he motioned for Jareth to try it on. It slid easily over his shoulders and the fabric was weighty. It felt good on. The sleeves were just the right length and the silver of the tie complemented it nicely. "Have a look." Vic moved out of the way again.

One eyebrow raised, as he took in his reflection. Curiosity turned into a smug glare as he smoothed his hands over the jacket. "This is quite nice," he told Tony's uncle. "Thank you."

"Where you going?" Vic asked him when Jareth headed for the door. "We need to get you some pants and a sensible pair of shoes."

Half an hour later, the Goblin King had been transformed. His make up washed away, his tights, now made by Armani. Overtop his amulet a silk tie covered that part of his chest that would normally remain exposed. There were any number of pockets where Jareth could hide the crystal he'd brought along with him for safety's sake. He chose an interior breast pocket thinking it was the least conspicuous. Tony stared at him in disbelief, the difference was remarkable. "Hey," he said when he finished taking in the new Goblin King, "why not take off that idiotic wig."

"Wig?" Jareth questioned.

Tony reached up and yanked on his long blonde locks.

"I must ask you to stop this," he remarked grabbing the young man's hand, "before I become angry."

"Holy shit. That's real!"

"Very much so," Jareth said as he reshaped his mane.

"Uncle Vic, you any good at cutting hair?"

"Cutting hair?" the Goblin king repeated.

When they turned to face Vic, silver blades reflected the light from the room and Jareth was not pleased with the look in his eyes.

"Now nobody's gonna mess with you. You can walk right into the Peppermill and they'll respect you." Tony said to Jareth as they walked down the street toward the theater. "Now remember the plan alright. You're my agent Jeremy. Now the producer will be here with his assistant, but it's usually not the same guy who talks to the agents so act like you set the whole thing up days ago with someone called Skip or Bud or something like that. Then you gotta sell me, because he's gonna think we're up to no good. So you tell him how I've done a whole line of good shows, South Pacific, Chicago, Phantom." Tony was getting excited at just the idea of singing for a real New York producer. He'd heard about these auditions a month ago and just by luck this fellow that he met, this night of all nights, could be his ticket in. It was like it was meant to be. "You got all that?"

Jareth nodded but didn't speak.

"I said do you got all that?" Tony repeated, the desperation in his voice growing. Then it caught his attention, much the same as it had distracted Jareth. The neon lights that formed letters high into the New York skyline, their beams shining down on the men in the street below. Peppermill. Even to a fey it seemed magical.

While Jareth might not have understood auditions and theaters, he knew what it was like to chase a dream, to want what seemed unattainable. There as he looked at the face of the young man who'd changed him so dramatically, he read the same expression he'd seen on his own face. Tonight he would help this man fulfill his quest and the Supreme One willing, it would lead him further on his own. Jareth wrapped a grey glove around the handle of the door and pulled it open, "Clients first," he offered bowing low. Tony smiled as he walked through.

Almost immediately they were met by one of the producer's lackeys. "Wait a minute," he said in a particularly nasally voice, "these auditions are by invitation only."

Tony nudged the fey. "Ah, right you are my friend. I did receive an invitation. The boy's name was Skip."

"Don't know no Skip."

"And you might be?" Jareth asked him.

"Folks call me Buddy," the producer's assistant told him.

Both Tony and Jareth wiped a brow when they heard this, glad that the Goblin King had chosen wisely. "Buddy, I know what it is. You've been working for the man a while now haven't you?" Buddy nodded. "He's gone and hired this greenie to manage his appointments. Break in some new blood he can pay minimum and work you out of the picture. But see what he doesn't realize is that you're the one who keeps it all together. Skippy boy didn't even remember to write my client here into the calendar." Jareth motioned at Tony as he smoothly stepped past Buddy. "But don't you worry," he said shaking a finger at the assistant while Buddy made his way to the front of the auditorium, "I'm going to tell him all about that inefficient Skip and how it almost cost him a star. How he owes his new leading male all to you Buddy." Jareth finished the speech with a sure wink.

"Yeah, you do that would you pal," the assistant called after the fey. "Sonofabitch never appreciates a damn thing I do for him anyway."

When Jareth managed to catch up to Tony again the young man slapped him hard on the back. "You were fantastic. Where'd you learn all that fancy bullshit? You really could be an agent you know, but nah, you'd rather act. I know. Bug bit me bout a year and a half ago. If I could get this gig, man, I'd be able to leave the streets. Earn myself a real living and owe it all to you. You're a good friend Jar...emy. I couldn't have even got through the front door without you."

Jareth smiled. Auditions, singing, it all made sense. Tony was an actor and auditions had something to do with acting. He peered at the stage before them. The velvet curtains reminded him of home and the follow spot illuminating the floorboards reminded him of Sarah. His heart felt like it might crack. "Just don't waste this chance," he said softly. Whether it was directed at Tony or if he were talking more to himself was a mystery.

Buddy's hand was on Tony's shoulder and it made him jump. "What's your last name kid?"

"Monroe," he told him. "Tony Monroe."

"Well Monroe, you're up. Break a leg."

He looked back at Jareth as he headed down the aisle, "Thanks man. Thanks a lot."

Those were good words. Finally the Goblin King could see that. It was nice to say, but it was more rewarding to hear. He felt himself swelling with pride as the young man took the stage. Jareth settled into a seat crossing his legs and resting his chin on his hand. The shadows hid his smile. What a pity? The Goblin King had a beautiful smile.

"Hey, my name is Tony Monroe," he said squinting into the follow spot. "I'd like to thank you for agreeing to see me today. I'm gonna audition for the role of Marius Pontmercy today and I wanna do that by singing Empty Chairs at Empty Tables." To listen to him speak no professional in his right mind would have offered him a spot as third bus stop patron on the right. Then he cleared his throat and sipped his water before he opened is mouth and began to sing.

The notes rang from his throat like a choir of bells. Knowing where he'd come from, it was obvious he couldn't have taken a lesson a day in his life. His talents were natural and it showed. Mortal magic Jareth thought was always something more, something more like what he did, creating crystals or transporting about without having to walk, but what was going on before him and how it felt inside him was more magic than any crystal he'd ever cast. Tony's eyes were a light and though he'd never lived through a war himself and had probably never found himself a sole survivor of a fallen barricade, it was impossible to tell. In the audience, you wept for him. You felt his pain.

Jareth's gloves pounded together when the last note rang. Tony's voice wavered and he stood still as stone.

Buddy looked at Jareth and drew his clip board across his neck. Not sure what he meant by the gesture, he halted his applause. When the motion stopped, the Goblin King guessed he had done as the man intended. Tony didn't care. He loved the sound of applause, even when it wasn't the professional response, it washed over him like summer rays of sunshine warming him noticeably.

Leaning into his assistant's ear, the producer mumbled a few words and Buddy stood, "Have a seat, we'll call you to sing in a duet once we've completed the remainder of the auditions."

Tony bowed in their direction and hurriedly took a seat next to Jareth. "Man, I know I got this gig. I know it." His front teeth bit at his lower lip as he tried contain himself. Finally he settled in to watch the remainder of the auditions. There were only two others auditioning for Marius. Both were formidable opponents, but none had what Tony had. That was fate. Fate working for him for once in his miserable life. At the end of the male auditions five men were asked to leave. Tony remained, seated next to Jareth.

The female auditions were about to begin. A small blonde woman took the stage. She wore a full blue dress. "My name is Casey Bakay. I'll be auditioning for the role of Fantine by singing for you Fantine's Death." After her came others who wanted to be Cosette, a handful of dancers who wanted to be singing whores, a few older women that liked the outlandish style of Mrs. Thénardier. They were each captivating in their own way, some better suited based on looks than others. Others just more talented, but sorely couldn't have been transformed into the part they sought even with make up and costume.

It was growing late. Jareth was itching to leave so that he could get back to finding Sarah. He tried excusing himself, but Tony wouldn't hear of it. "You can't go, you're my good luck charm."

With a sigh and a smile, the Goblin King sat back and focused on the stage so he could hide his disappointment from Tony.

"Thank you all for inviting me here tonight." The voice was familiar to his fey ears. "My name is Sarah Williams and I will be singing On My Own as I audition for the role of Eponine."

"Sweet Spriggans!" Jareth shouted.

"Ssshhh," Buddy chastised.

On stage, Sarah remained focused. Nothing was more important than what she was about to do. Not even a mouthy opponent from the shadows. She smiled sweetly, rubbing her sheer lips one over the other and then parted them slightly, barely enough to breath as she whispered into the microphone.

Her last note was throaty and deep. Jareth was stunned by what he saw and what he heard. He rested on the edge of his seat wanting to jump up out of the chair and rush to the stage to take her in up close. Instead, the Goblin King was stuck in his seat, hidden from her by shadows, obscured by the lights that shown only on her and reflected on the waves of her gown until everything before her seemed to dance with each move she made. Lost in the sound of her voice and captivated by her look, he let her words surround him. Sarah sang of a one sided love, of an interest in life overlooked her, but in her mind he stood beside her. His stride in time with hers.

Sarah's hands balled at her sides as she forced the powerful notes. Her voice rang through the auditorium, the tone clear the sound sharp. A quick breath and she returned to the throaty whisper she'd begun her performance with.

The Goblin King wanted to stand, wanted to run to her and tell her that her love was returned. That she no longer had to pretend. He was here and wanted her as much as he ever had. "Brava," the producer cried as he took to his feet. "Those of you who've come to audition for Eponine are excused. I have found her."

Jareth shrunk back in his seat. He was happy for her success, but a bit embarrassed by the way he'd lost himself in the words of a play. "I'd get to sing with her if I bag this audition, man" Tony told him.

Buddy took the stage, announcing that there would be a ten minute break between solo and duet performances. Sarah ran to Stuart, furious she asked him, "There are duet auditions! Stuart!" Then it occurred to her that she had nothing to fear, her's was the only part guaranteed in the first round. "Oh Stuart," she cried again, the tears visible in her eyes, "I got it." She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.

"I knew you could do it doll, I knew you could."

With a great deal of jealousy and anger, Jareth watched the exchange. Tony grabbed him by the elbow, "I'm going to congratulate her, maybe I could ask her to sing A Little Fall of Rain with me." The other men asked to participate in the duet auditions were intimated with her talent and cozied up to the Cosettes. "Come on," he tugged at the Goblin King. He attempted to resist, but ended up giving in when he remembered how different he looked thanks to Vic. They crossed the floor, heads high, one of them filled with confidence and one of them filled with dread.

"Ms. Williams," Tony extended his hand.

Stuart stepped in to receive the greeting, "And you are?"

"Tony Monroe. I was auditioning for the role of Marius."

"I've never seen you in the theater circles before," Sarah said plainly.

"Finally got me a decent agent," Tony reasoned, pulling Jareth closer. "Ms. Williams, this is Jeremy..." he stumbled, realizing that the Goblin King had never told him his last name.

"Underwood. Jeremy Underwood, charmed and delighted," he said taking Sarah's hand and brushing the back with his lips.

Thrown by his greeting, Sarah fumbled not only her words but her attempt to reach for Stuart. "Likewise," her trembling hands caught her agent by his tie and yanked him forward. "This is Stuart." Sarah's attention returned to Jareth, "Have we met somewhere before?"

"New York's a small city, we were bound to have met sooner or later," he responded without thinking about how strange it might sound.

Tony eyed his companion, "Yeah, so anyway, Ms. Williams, I thought we might sing A Little Fall of Rain for the duet, that is if you wouldn't mind singing with someone so, you know, not as good as you."

"My pleasure," Sarah told him as she and Jareth's eyes stayed locked.

Buddy took the microphone once more and called everyone back. He asked that Sarah and her partner take the stage first so that the new Eponine could leave as early as possible so that she rest up for tomorrow. Like a true gentlemen, Tony led her to the stage. Together they began to sing. Both faces expressing all the emotions of a song sung between a woman who loved a man, who didn't know he loved her back until just this moment. There was that funny feeling inside Jareth's chest again. It ached and tickled at the same time.

Jareth closed his eyes. Christ they made it look easy. Standing in front of a roomful of strangers effortlessly confessing their deepest emotions as casually as they said hello. Silently he cursed his own deformities. He was fey, every fey had one. Little was flawed with Jareth's outward appearance, that is to say if anything. However, he lacked a great deal of emotion and that was to be his imperfection and it stunted him worse than any magic, worse than even iron when it came to Sarah.

Having one's meditation disrupted was never pleasant, but as the producer stood to shower his accolades upon the duo Jareth nearly tumbled to the floor. "Such chemistry! We have found our Marius. This will be by far the best production I have ever done." He ran onto the stage throwing an arm around each of the newly discovered talents. "Off with you my dears," he kissed their foreheads, "rest your voices. Rehearsals will begin tomorrow!" He laughed childishly at himself.

Tony embraced Sarah, "I can't wait," he told her. "Thank you so much for singing with me. I know that's why I got the part. You're amazing," Tony said, "like a piano only much smaller and with lips." Sarah grinned at his awkwardness and waved to him as Stuart guided her away from what he thought was an overzealous young upstart who wanted to ride Sarah's coat tails to recognition, much like someone else he knew.

By the time Tony made it back to where Jareth had been, the chair was empty. "Didn't even give me a chance to say thanks." He walked home with a bit of a spring, eager to tell his uncle all that had happened this night.

Outside the theater Stuart was trying to convince Sarah to go out for a drink to celebrate her victory. "Thank you Stuart," she declined kissing his cheek, "I appreciate everything you've done, but I'd rather just head home. I'm a bit wiped out from all the excitement."

"Suit yourself then Sarah darling, I'll have your drink for you." Stuart gently draped her wrap over her shoulder and beamed at her. "I'm so proud of you," he said before he turned to walk away.

Sarah looked around her. No one was out and the chill in the air had no effect on the warmth her victory had brought to her heart. Her feet swept over the street below her. 'No cab tonight,' she thought. She felt so light she could have flown home. "On my own..." she sang the entire way back to the apartment.


	9. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT - TWO WORLDS COLLIDE**

City streets scared Sarah normally, but tonight, city streets excited her. Tonight she felt like she was the woman she would portray on stage, young and fearless, willing to face all things terrifying. Her voice rang through the night air on the wind. Damn anyone who was listening, if they didn't hear her now, they'd hear her soon enough. Once she made it to Broadway the lights would spell out her name and she wouldn't even be able to get coffee in the corner store without having to sign at least a hundred autographs. She was so caught up in her thoughts, she didn't notice the figure in the shadows. She didn't feel the eyes of the Goblin King as they watched her, helpless to the swaying of her hips or the soft pink flesh that shown through the open back of her gown.

Even when she was turning the key in the door to her apartment, Sarah kept singing. She burst open the door and threw her arms wide, her thin black silk wrap parachuted to the floor, "I got it!" She cried, "I got the part." No one was home to hear her. No one came running from the bedroom to say congratulations. No one peeked over the refrigerator door ready to ask more questions about the show. Her arms fell to her sides. From the door a cool draft blew in and it reminded her two things: her wrap had fallen, and she had forgotten to shut the door behind her. She turned around bending to snatch up the black silk, instead black leather met her eyes. Two black leather loafers to be exact, each peaking out from under a grey herringbone pant leg. Her eyes followed the pant leg to a matching jacket and let out a tiny gasp as she saw Jeremy standing in the doorway, her throw pinched in the fingers of his outstretched hand.

"Congratulations," he told her cocking an eyebrow and offering her the wrap.

Sarah grabbed it from his hand, doing a double take at his glove. "Jeremy? You followed me! Listen, if this is some ploy to steal me away from Stuart now that I've got the part, I should warn you, I have no intention of leaving him when he's done so much for me."

"I'm not here because I want to be your agent, Sarah."

She blinked when she heard him speak her name. "Well if you think stalking a woman is some fabulous new pick up technique, you're wrong."

Jareth looked at her cockeyed, "Pick up technique?"

"Listen buster all I have to do is let out a scream and the my neighbors will call the cops so fast, you won't make it to the elevators."

She was remarkably spirited the Goblin King noted as he shut the door behind him, "You're not going to scream and you know it." With arrogance to spare he leaned into her, practically nose to nose and forced her to spin as he took wide strides leading himself deeper into her living area. "You're too fascinated by my familiarity to get rid of me before you figure it out."

"I knew it. I recognized you back at the theater."

"And so you did." Jareth sat on one of the breakfast stools and leaned his elbows on the table behind him. "Now it seems you just cannot put a name to the face." He grinned baring his jagged teeth.

Sarah looked at him for a long minute in complete silence, those eyes, that grin, something in the way he carried himself, the way he seemed to drape across the furniture. She closed in on him. Jareth watched her. If it were possible, she seemed even more beautiful now, away from all the tinted lights and judging eyes that were back at the theater. What had once been a spoiled and selfish little girl had grown into a wildly enticing woman. She moved toward him with such amazing grace that he couldn't help jerking his brow with approval. Head held high, Sarah led each step with her hip making her body seemingly glide. Once or twice the Goblin King thought he should check to see if her feet were touching the ground but he wasn't foolish enough to waste these moments looking at her feet. Instead he wondered if beneath the pinned up ringlets on her head there was still that long flowing black waterfall he had dared to touch so many years ago as they danced.

"Don't play games with me," Sarah said as she stood in front of Jareth her hand raised as though she were preparing to slap the dopey grin off his face if he didn't remove it himself.

A gloved hand wrapped around her wrist. "Until tonight I feared someone may have managed to quelch your magic, love, but it thrills me to find no one has put your fire out." Never breaking their stare, he drew her hand close to his mouth and kissed her palm.

Something inside her began to swim. Her heart was racing and she'd forgotten how to breath. Why wasn't she pulling away from this freak? Or running to lock herself in the bedroom until the police came? "What do you mean magic?" Sarah managed to stutter eventually.

"You," Jareth pulled her by the wrist until she was between his knees. "Tonight," he purred reaching up with his free hand to undo the pins from her hair. "You were pure mortal magic," the Goblin King stopped what he was saying to take her in as the curls began framing her porcelain face. Green eyes seemed to see through him. Releasing her wrist, Jareth put both hands around her waist, one gloved palm to either side of her unveiled spine. Weak in the knees from the sensation of him touching her, Sarah grabbed at his neck with the hand Jareth had just set free. Shorter than it had been, the hair at the back of his head was still long enough to poke out from between Sarah's finger tips as she worked her hand in his golden locks. The mighty Goblin King had not intended for this to happen. He wanted to find his mortal, take back his magic, perhaps torment her a bit. After all, she'd have no idea that the Triumvirate had forbid him his powers. Instead he found himself in awe of this woman. Curious for the feel of her. Hungry for the taste of her. Jareth brushed Sarah's hair away from her shoulder and placed a series of tender kisses along her artery. A heavy sigh escaped her throat before she bit down on her lower lip to keep any more from breaking loose.

'What the hell are you doing?' she caught herself wondering. 'You barely know this guy.' While that were true, it had been a long time since her body felt like it did right now. She caught herself looking down to make certain that her legs actually existed beneath her knees. 'Still standing,' she thought. Jagged teeth nipped at her tender flesh and she fell into him. Sarah felt his lips smile against her neck. Jareth pulled back his head to meet her eyes, but they were closed. There was something terribly innocent about her face. Years of anger melted away as with incredible delicacy he lay his lips upon each eyelid, then her nose. She opened her eyes and her lips parted intent on telling him to stop. The Goblin King gave her little chance to say anything as his warm lips covered hers. At first Sarah was too stunned to do anything. She stood there, now relying on him for practically all the support that kept her from crashing to the floor. His mouth was sweet and his lips worked at hers like a light breeze without being prodding or demanding as, as, 'Damn it, that guy, the one she lived with,' Sarah caught her self asking, 'what was his name?'

Even if she felt distracted, it hadn't deterred Jareth in the least. He continued kissing her, his tongue sliding over her lip every now and again. Suddenly the name that eluded her didn't matter. The name of the man who was making her body behave this way didn't matter. This kiss became everything. It forced her to react, kissing him back, opening her mouth begging him to deepen their connection. She waited patiently for what seemed like minutes. Through being teased, Sarah brought her palms to his jaw line and pulled him to her taking the initiative to open his stubborn lips with her own tongue. Jareth rose his eyebrows and conceded. He didn't mind losing to his mortal when this was the battle they waged. His hands balled into fists at the small of her back, frustrated by the fact there was no fabric there for them to grasp.

Jareth was suddenly very grateful that Tony had taken him to get this suit. The loose fitting cotton blend hid what his tights would not. Sarah was aware too that they were no longer two strangers sharing one innocent kiss. The chemistry between them was escalating to an unstoppable passion she would regret in the morning. As if he sensed her hesitation to continue, Jareth worked his way back to her neck. His tongue swirled over the sensitive spots at her collar bone as his nose filled with the vanilla scent from her perfume. "Sarah," he moaned into her neck while his hands stroked the flesh near the back-line of her dress.

"Jareth," she sighed back. In that moment it was if all timed had stopped. The Goblin King's lips stilled their fevered kisses. Sarah could feel her legs again, in fact, they'd turned to stone. For him, he had heard her call his name for the first time and he was amazed at the sound of it as it fell from her perfect mouth. For Sarah, it was the similarity to a dream she'd had not that long ago. Pushing him back by the shoulders, she stared into his mismatched eyes. Trembling fingers reached for his lips, the soft tissue tasting her as she pulled them over his mouth, "You're real." Her hand settled over his chest where his heart was beating wildly. "What happened to you?"

"What do you mean what happened to me?" Jareth asked a little hurt.

"Your clothes," she said. "Your hair. You've cut your beautiful hair." Her fingers danced through the thick waves on the top of his head. It had seamed so straight to her before now. But without all that length to drag it down, his mop was tosselled with curls. Cut close on the sides and combed back it seemed to thin his face making his cheek bones seem even fuller and his face more gaunt.

"You haven't changed a bit," he kissed her again this time quickly, as if he were afraid, now that she knew him, she'd run away if he pushed too hard, "except to grow more beautiful." The back of his gloved hand caressed her cheek and she leaned into his touch. For fifteen years Sarah fought back the feelings she had for this man. Hatred. Curiosity. Whatever you might call what she was experiencing right now. A dozen or more times she'd tried to call him. Tried to summon him back to her. Tears stained the grey fabric that covered his hands.

"Why didn't you come when I called to you?" she asked him, trying hard not to sob.

"I couldn't," he answered honestly hoping she wouldn't pursue this any further.

Sarah narrowed her eyes, "I called you so many times. I convinced myself I imagined you. Damn you!" she shouted trying to twist and turn from his arms. Jareth only held her tighter. She managed to wiggle around so that she no longer faced him. Her movement forced him to stand and spoon himself behind her. "Sarah," he whispered in her ear, "there was never a time you called that I didn't pray I could have come. Every time you asked, my soul wanted to respond. The pain of it as it tried to tear itself from my body was indescribable." Her body went limp in his arms and he compensated for her loss in stability by further tightening his hold. The Goblin King nuzzled her with his head. Soft locks brushed against her cheek and neck. Jareth's lips replaced his hair. "You told me I had no power over you, Sarah. Which meant that until you admitted once more that I did, my magic was powerless when it came to you."

'Jesus,' she thought, 'if seeing me like this isn't a blatant confession that you do have some sort of power over me then what is.' Jareth filled the silence with the sound of his lips against her flesh. He traced her spine with his tongue, slowly down to her tail bone, where her dress stopped him from going any further. With an even more torturous deliberateness he wound his way back to her neck, letting her silky black curls engulf his face as he searched for those spots he'd only too easily found moments earlier. Sarah was furious. Furious that he seemed to blame her for not being there when she wanted him, but it seemed not to matter when she wanted him so much now. "Guess I was a bit spontaneous in my youth," she told him as she twisted in his grip to face him once again. Her eyes pleaded with him to alter time the way he had once. She wanted to go back to before life had become so complicated.

Smoothing back the hair that had made it's way into her eyes, Jareth spoke to her in that same melodic calm he always had. Sarah's eyes went wide as a new rendition of an old soliloquy filed her ears. "Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here," he emphasized, "to this apartment within the New York City, to take back the heart you have stolen. For my will is as strong as yours and my love is as great. You hold all the power over me." His head threw back a bit as he stressed all and he smiled at his own cleverness. Sarah couldn't help thinking what a handsome smile he had. Those pointed teeth making him seem seductively devilish.

Maybe it was time that had changed her or the poetry of the words he had spoken. Perhaps it was the way his mouth seemed perpetually pursed as though he were constantly waiting to kiss or be kissed by someone. Sarah leaned into him once more, claiming his lips for her pleasure. Her trembling hands worked at the knotted silk around his throat until the fabric came free. It was easier for Jareth to breath once Sarah managed to undo the top button of the collar. With a replenished supply of oxygen at his demand, his hands covered her exposed rib cage and brought her more tightly to him, kissing her with a renewed vigor. More of his buttons slipped out of the holes in his shirt. Sarah's fingers nimbly removed his jacket and draped it over one of the stools. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, he felt defined without being bulky. On an agenda all their own, Sarah's hands slid inside his shirt and smoothed over his pale skin. The Goblin King's heightened fey sensitivities were bringing him closer to the point of no return at the touch of her satiny fingertips slipping over his skin. Even the cool silver amulet around his neck had grown warm lying against his chest.

Jareth fought the urge to scoop up his mortal and carry her off to somewhere he could lie her down and love her properly. He undid the clasp that joined her shoulder strap from back to front and massaged her scapula with his mouth and lips. When Sarah gasped and pulled away, he realized that he must have been using his teeth as well. "Sorry, love," he told her as he blew over the skin he'd just bruised. He might as well have blown fire across her skin, making her sweat in the most unusual places.

Thoughts of her mortal world seemed to fade. Eponine no longer mattered. Christian and whatever it was they were supposed to discuss tonight was irrelevant. Sarah was alive in the here and now and her one true love had crossed worldly boundaries to pledge his love for her. "I shouldn't have said those things to you," she whispered in his ear.

"What's said is said. You were trying to get Toby back," he reassured her.

'Lot of good that's done me,' she recalled. They hadn't spoken since Sarah had left for Julliard. Sarah's hands folded over the collar of Jareth's half undone shirt. Timidly she guided him to the couch where he had plagued a week's worth of restless nights. "I was too young to love you then," Sarah told him as they sat simultaneously.

"And now?" he couldn't help asking. He wanted this, wanted her. Suddenly his magic wasn't the only thing on his mind. The words of the Triumvirate didn't ring in his ears. Only Sarah's sweet voice speaking his name. The Goblin King replayed it again and again as he waited for her answer to his provocative inquiry.

Green eyes met with his mismatched blues, "I am no longer young." She kissed him once more, innocently at first. Sarah wasn't used to being the aggressor, but something about him empowered her. Jareth winced knowing that the real differences in their ages was far greater than she realized. Why in the Underground, Sarah would still be considered a baby. Well, still a minor. Jareth pushed all that aside to focus on returning her kiss. He carefully guided her back to the cushions beneath her. In truth, she put up little resistance to his brazen advance. Encouraged by his aggression, she strengthened the pressure being applied by her lips and tongue. Her teeth chewing gently at his lower lip. Eagerly she tore at his shirt, untucking it from his waist band and rushing her hands inside. Jareth repositioned his amulet so that it set on his back. It was heavy and he didn't want it swinging around and hurting the beautiful woman below him. Beneath the weight of him, it was easy to feel his readiness to have her. For the first time in as long as Sarah could remember she wanted a man, but only if that man was Jareth, King of the Goblins.

For a moment, he stopped their frenzied attack on one another's mouths and stared into her eyes. It crossed his mind for a moment that she could have been toying with him. She had been cruel once. Inside her enlarged blackened pupils he saw only confusion. Confusion for how he could break away from their embrace, when to Sarah, at that moment her very survival was dependant on not losing contact with him. He couldn't ask her now, the time was all wrong. There were more important things to be said. "I have always loved you," he told her as she watched his mouth form the words, still eager for it to find so many other places on her body. Sarah had no clue how or if to respond. Did he expect to hear her say she loved him too? She obviously wanted him. Wasn't that enough for right now? While she worried what to say, the Goblin King skillfully undid the clasp on the other strap of her dress. A few more touches of his lips to her neck and the fabric had found it's way into his teeth as he peeled it back slowly, taking in the magnificence of her breasts. Jareth moved to cover one sensitive nipple with his mouth as he massaged the other breast with his long fingers.

The turning of the doorknob stung them like a cold rain. Jareth pulled back from his radiant mortal, a healthy blush obvious on his pale cheeks. Sarah's fingers worked to rejoin the straps of her dress almost as eagerly as they had undone the Goblin King's stunning attire. Before either of them could fully complete their objective, Christian shouted, "What the hell are you doing?" He was furious with Sarah and given he walked in on her half undressed, covered by a strange man, he felt he had the right to be. "He your producer? Audition not quite done?" he raged.

"No, no," Sarah repeated. She couldn't bring herself to meet his accusing eyes. Her cheeks were still flushed with passion and although she was painfully aware of the coolness that swept over her where Jareth's body had been, she was still warm with the thought of what he had done to her. The Goblin King reworked the buttons of his shirt. Sarah, satisfied that she had rejoined enough of the straps to keep her bosoms from being exposed, stood before Christian, head cast down, matted strands blocking her eyes from his.

Brutally he shoved her head back, his thumb and forefinger squeezing her chin. "Save your lies you tramp and to think, I was going to take you back."

Tears coursed over her cheeks smearing what remained of her make up. Jareth grew infuriated with what Christian was doing, what Christian always did. "See here then," the Goblin King called him, "seems to me you ought wonder more about what you didn't do that has caused her to go and do what she's done." He stepped between them. Fastening the last of the cuff buttons, he glared down at Christian with contempt and hatred. What an awful moment to be without his magic. "I've wanted to meet you for quite sometime Christian."

"How does he know my name Sarah?"

"This is your suitor?" Jareth asked Sarah with great disbelief.

"What does he mean suitor?"

"You will address me and me only. Consider her invisible the way you always have." Jareth spat at him.

A mortal fist met the outside of Jareth's left temple causing him to catch his head in his hands. Blood poured from his broken skin and ran toward his jaw. Sarah gasped and reached for him. The Goblin King was on his knees and the foolish girl covered him with her own body. Christian grabbed the open back of her dress and tossed her aside, ripping the strap and forcing her to become exposed once more. The doubled over fey growled like a wounded animal backed into a corner. The promises he made the Triumvirate were long since forgotten as he rose to his feet and buried a fist deep into the mortal's rib cage as he did so. "Pity is Christian," he started to say, but paused to block an incoming blow from his opponent, "I didn't come prepared for a formal fight." A second fist came thundering into Christian's face. "I'm more a swordsman myself." By the third hit, Jareth was holding the mortal by the shoulder keeping him from sliding to the floor out of exhaustion. "Not that I mind a good hand to hand now or then, but I feel like I've let you down not giving you my best performance." A final blow and the Goblin King let him slide to the floor in a heap.

Sarah was balled in the corner sobbing. How was it even possible to ride such a roller coaster of emotions so quickly. She'd let Jareth control her and after she swore that would never happen again. The fey's glove reached to palm her streaked face. "Sarah," he whispered. "Are you alright?"

"Do I look alright?" she fired back at him. "Why, Jareth, why did you come here after all these years, and none of your bullshit about how much you loved me!"

He winced. It was a tougher blow than the one he'd taken from her companion only minutes earlier, "I do love you Sarah. I have always loved you. That was not a lie."

"You've never done anything for no reason. What was your reason for loving me?"

Damned if he could answer that. It was a question he had asked himself a million times, but answers never came. "I had no choice in loving you."

Part of her wanted to crawl into his arms, the way he stooped before her, seemingly sincere. Fresh blood still running from the gash on his head. The rest of her didn't buy his poetic words any longer. He'd reeked havoc on her life for his own satisfaction, "What have you come to take from me this time?"

Wishing she'd have just slapped him, Jareth gave in. It was all he could stand to see the passion in her eyes replaced with disgust. "I came to ask you to take back your words Sarah, to permit me power over you again so that my magic would be restored to whole. I've come to take back what I gave you fifteen years ago when I first fell in love with you."

"Were you going to wait until after we did it?" she said between clenched teeth. "You think you can just come in here once I'd grown to love you and seduce me into giving it all back. The only thing that made me feel alive and you've come to steal it away with a kiss and whatever else you could get!" He said nothing as his head wagged back and forth at her gross misunderstanding. "Get out Jareth."

"Sarah, please."

"Leave."

"Let me explain."

She stood before him defiantly, "I do not wish to hear your explanations Goblin King. I wish..."

"Careful what you say Sarah," he hissed lifting himself to meet her steely eyes.

"I wish you'd go away, back to the Underground,"

"Sarah don't, you don't understand what your capable of."

"And never visit me again."

Jareth's eyes were dark and sad, set on his one true love, as the fabric of time wrinkled and swallowed him whole.

Sarah sunk to her knees again. What had she just done? Where had he gone? Could it be that even after all these years she had to mature she was still that spontaneous child who spoke first and thought afterwards. Right now it seemed that way. She'd wished him away as easily as she'd offered up her little brother in a time when they had failed to compliment one another. The chill she felt without his arms around her earlier paled in comparison to the cold that ravaged her now.

Hours later, on the other side of the apartment, Christian was coming to. Moaning and grunting preceded his actually getting up to make his way to the bathroom. He snorted as he walked by Sarah, still curled up on the floor crying. Mirrors were truthful if not kind and that fellow from the prior evening had done a number on him undoubtedly. Wincing and sucking air through his teeth, Christian set about to cleaning his wounds. Every breath made his chest ache more. "Probably broke my rib," he said pressing the tender area with his fingers. "You oughtta get cleaned up too." Christian said to Sarah when he reappeared beside her in the living room. He tossed the blood covered hand towel at her and kept walking.

Sarah threw the disgusting thing aside. Her shoulders were sore from the way he'd grabbed her so roughly. Once on her feet, she stepped into the bedroom and slammed the door behind her. Before the dressing table she watched as her beautiful dress hit the floor. 'How did all this happen?' she thought as she looked at the woman in the mirror. With the help of a cotton ball, Sarah wiped away the streaks of mascara and eyeliner. Laughing at herself, she couldn't help but draw the connection between her make up and Jareth's usual theatrical flair. What had happened to him last night? When she saw Jeremy he intrigued her, true. Once she kissed Jareth, it was the long blonde hair her hands reached out for. The first time her eyes opened she expected the flamboyant earth tones that made his mismatched eyes all the more captivating. She had to admit those fancy buttons on that dress shirt had frustrated the hell out of her, when it should have been a plunging neckline of a painter's shirt giving her the access she had pawed for. "Argh," she grunted throwing the cotton ball into the wastebasket.

Redressed in jeans and a sweat shirt, she brushed her hair until it was tangle free and shone. The ends of a few ringlets brushed her face and Jareth's hands were manipulating her memory. More hurriedly she hiked her mane into a ponytail. Sarah rejoined Christian in the living room. He noticed her blush, it lit her face the same way he had found her last night. "Who was he?" Christian asked with a little more calm than she was used to him exhibiting.

How would you describe Jareth to someone? How did you explain what kind of relationship the two of you had? 'Well,' the truth rummaged around in Sarah's mind, 'it's kinda like this. He came and stole my baby brother. I went to his Labyrinth to get my brother back and ended up with this huge adolescent crush on the Goblin King. Too young to know what to do about repressed sexual tension, I waited fifteen years for him to find me again, then jumped him in the living room like a horny girl on prom night.' Probably not the best explanation she could give. Besides, it wasn't the whole truth. Jareth had been uncharacteristically tender with her. His touch was light and passionate. He could have just as easily forced himself upon her the instant he'd gotten into the apartment. "It's difficult," she told him.

"Difficult Sarah? What were you drunk or something? How can it be difficult to tell me who this guy was?"

"I've known him since I was a kid Christian. When I saw him again it just, I don't know, it stirred up some old emotions."

"When you were a kid? How old a kid? Christ he looks like he's forty something! What did he baby-sit you?" He was certainly acting jealous for someone who typically seemed unconcerned with whether or not anyone else noticed Sarah.

"I was fifteen," she admitted.

"So he was like thirty! That's pretty sick if you ask me."

"I don't know how old he was," she cried, finally finding her resolve again. If only they knew just how old Jareth was. "And no one did ask you!"

Christian sat next to her on the couch, not wanting another confrontation. His arm slid around her shoulder and he kissed her hair. "It's okay Sarah. I've decided to forgive you."

His kisses no longer thrilled her and they hadn't in awhile Next to Jareth's, Christian's lips felt like stone. Her mouth hung open. Her eyes blazed wide. "You forgive me." Sarah bent back the fingers of her right hand as she pressed them off her chest. "You forgive me," she chuckled. "Day in, day out you come and go as you chose. You show up late for meals I spend all day preparing. You share about as much of yourself with me as you do with the Main Street grocer and you're forgiving me!" She left the couch and stormed into the kitchen. At the counter she poured a glass of juice. A gulp rejuvenate her dried throat. The glass met with the breakfast table and Sarah was ready to continue her outburst. Her mouth opened, but no words came forth. Instead her hands reached out for the jacket Jareth had left behind. In her head she remembered sliding it from his shoulders and placing it aside. Beneath her nose, the garment stilled smelled like him. Not like his cologne. Not like shampoo or soap. A raw ethereal scent that was him and him alone. Sarah folded the jacket over her arm and smoothed it down. A lump in the pocket caught he attention. Her small hand withdrew one of his crystals from the pocket.

Another flashback came to mind, one from her far past. 'It's a crystal, nothing more, but if you turn it this way and look into it, it'll show you your dreams.'

She rolled the orb in her palm and peered into it. Sarah was beguiled by the images that presented themselves to her. The Jareth she had faced the night before draped himself in his throne and melted into the Jareth she knew from long ago. He reached to his side, smiling, grasping something just outside of what the crystal was showing her. He pulled a woman in a full white gown to him. She landed in his lap with a shy giggle. His black leather glove lifted her chin so that he could bring his lips to hers in a passionate exchange. When their kiss was broken Sarah gasped. It was her she saw in the elaborate dress in the lap of the Goblin King. She held the crystal tightly, "On second thought Christian, I do need to be forgiven."

He sauntered over to her full of himself thinking she had finally seen the light. Sarah met his pompous eyes with her own determined ones, "I sent away the wrong man last night." Now it was his mouth that fell open. With nothing but the crystal she stormed out, pausing briefly at the door to remind him he was supposed to be gone by the end of tomorrow. She held her head higher as she walked to rehearsals that day.

Before the curious eye of the Triumvirate, Jareth lay sprawled face down, "Ah, God, don't you guys ever work on the landings?" he said grabbing at the cut on his head which threatened to break back opened any second.

It was the Gavel who spoke to him first, "So Goblin King, you have failed."

"So I have," Jareth seemed to accept it as he forced himself up on one knee.

"New suit, new hair, new shoes?" the Sage questioned eager to get his digs in. "Aren't we precious?"

Jareth stayed perfectly still on his knee and awaited his judgment.

"The mortal has not only refused to return your magic, but if I'm not mistaken, you professed your love for her again, leaving her with an even a bigger part of yourself."

It was true. Jareth could feel it happening when they kissed. His fey self was mixing with Sarah yet again. Fifteen years ago, he'd loved her with just his eyes and she grew powerful enough for glamours and to call upon her friends. This day he had loved her with his mouth and whether she knew it or not, she was powerful enough to cast now. She'd cast him back to the Underground that was for damn sure. "I accept my fate," he said wanting to crawl back to his castle where he could sulk in peace. Why couldn't she have wished the whole thing never happened? Then he'd be back where he started, begging the Triumvirate for a chance to face her. More importantly, he wouldn't still have the taste of her on his lips. His hands wouldn't remember the soft warm feel of her. Better still she could have wished they'd never met and he could start over again, before he even knew her name.

"I don't think you've even begun to realize your fate king," the Gavel spat down at him through a wicked sneer.

Jareth met the eyes of the Cleric revealing a pleading for some mercy. "Pity sake's Gavel," the holy fey began, "the king is hurt. He needs to seek the comfort of a healer. Pass your ruling and send him on his way."

"As you wish brother," the Gavel told him. "Jareth, King of the Goblins, insomuch as we have done as you asked and you have failed to complete the task you were assigned, we hereby sentence your magic defunct upon mortals and limit your travels to the Aboveground to those visits which directly relate to the collection of children." His mallet thundered off the arm of his throne. Jareth winced a bit.

"Let us send you home," the Cleric offered.

Jareth rose, "Not necessary, I can manage for myself." The king materialized one of his crystals and cast himself to his bed chambers.

The Cleric remained behind as the Gavel and the Sage left the great hall whispering between themselves at Jareth's expense. He looked into a gazing ball that served as a decorative piece in the corner by the entry way. His eyes clouded with what he saw and his hands moved to bless himself, "I fear we have lost him this time," he spoke aloud to no one in particular. "The only one who can save Jareth now, is Jareth."

Rubber soles made no sound as they traversed the aisle of the theater to join the rest of the cast already in attendance. "Sorry I'm late," she offered to those who looked judgmentally at her.

The producer rose wrapping an arm around her, "Nonsense, we couldn't begin until you were here." He thrust a script into her hands and Sarah took a seat, next to Tony in the audience.

"I wish I could pick this all up just by flipping through it," she told him, flicking the pages with her thumb.

"You'll do fine Ms. Williams," he tried to reassure her. She looked away not much up for accepting anyone's flattery

"Tony?" Sarah asked him after they'd spent a few moments looking over the scripts. He turned his head and raised an eyebrow, indicating that she had his attention. "Jeremy, your new agent, how did the two of you get hooked up together?"

"It was the funniest thing," he told her, happy to finally share the story with someone. What he'd told his uncle had been more a collection of half truths to keep him from asking too many questions. "He stumbled in to a bad spot just outside town. A poor neighborhood. Most of us can't afford a radio, so we make our own music. For some reason, the stage actors love to stop by and poke fun or make comments. A lot of the guys are pretty good, if you ask me, and they get real worked up with the theater folks mostly because they never give us a shot to come into the city and really make something of our talent."

"Never give us?" Sarah noticed the way he had said us and not them immediately.

"Yeah," he admitted uneasily. "Look if you don't rat me out then I'll do anything for you, wash your car or paint your house. I'm a pretty good handyman and I don't mind physical labor."

"Your talented Tony, more so than I've seen in a long time. You're secret is safe with me." Her hand reached out to pat his.

He smiled. Coming from her, there was no greater compliment. "Thanks Ms. Williams."

"Call me Sarah," she told him. "I'm not old enough for you to be calling me Ms. Williams."

"Yes ma'am, I mean Sarah. Anyway, here came Jeremy in this weird get up, from God only knows what show. This floppy white shirt with big sleeves and tights. Some crazy long coat all covered in beadwork and high heeled boots. He had this crazy mop all teased out and screwed down. I don't know what he was thinking walking through my neighborhood that way, but some of the guys, well they didn't like him being around." Tony closed his script so he could tell Sarah what happened next. "I made him a deal. I would get my uncle to hook him up with some respectable threads, if he got me into this audition. My uncle Vic, set him up good with that snazzy suit and a decent hair cut. Must have taken a good hour to get the make up off him."

Was she really hearing all this? They transformed her Goblin King. Tony and his uncle had taken the man she loved and made him trendy, another cliché, to walk unnoticed in the city streets. It made her sad thinking about him as ordinary when he was so much more. "We made up this nutty story about another PA who had messed up the auditions and how Buddy would look like a hero if he straightened things out. Almost shit myself when it worked. Oh," he interrupted himself, "excuse me. Anyway, I was surprised that's for sure. By the time they'd given me the part hands down, he was gone." He fumbled with the corners of the book in his lap, "Never even got to say thanks."

"Jareth is a hard one to appreciate sometimes," Sarah confided in him.

Tony's eyes grew wide with suspicion, "I never told you his name was Jareth. We called him Jeremy to keep anyone from asking questions. I ain't told no one his real name, no one."

"Let's just say I know him from a long time ago and seeing him yesterday was good, it was really good." Sarah was lost in her own reverie.

"It's those eyes," Tony told her. "Doesn't matter how much you change a person's clothes or hair, when they have eyes like that it's almost impossible to hide who they are. Don't think I've ever seen such a thing."

"No, not many people have." She reopened her script, "Guess we better start memorizing these things. I wish you a lot of success Tony Monroe. I wish you lots of good things."

He looked at her strangely, but more because no one had ever wished him things before. The producer called them to the stage. Sarah stood without her script ready to perform. "Don't you want this," Buddy asked holding up her script.

"No thanks," she told him, "I'm through with that."

Buddy huffed, everybody who came into the theater thought they were something special. Sarah disappointed him more than most did, after all she had talent. Apparently she knew it. Together the main cast ran through the songs, everyone relying heavily on the books in their hands. Sarah strutted about the stage as if she'd wrote the blocking on her own. Every song was in pitch and her timing impeccable.

During a break Tony asked her how long she'd had the script. "Got mine when you got yours," she told him. Don't know why I managed to take to it so quickly." Suddenly it frightened her. She was remembering the wish she made when she and Tony were sitting in the audience seats. She decided to ask the producer if she could wrap early. He agreed, impressed by how much work she managed to put into just a few hours. She became an example for all the others.

Sarah's stomach was filled with butterflies as she walked home. The last couple of days were too much of a coincidence to make her comfortable. Absentmindedly, she paused on a street corner to watch some stomp musicians performing. 'Wish I could dance like that,' she thought. Without warning, one of the dancers picked her from the crowd and they were dancing in time to the rhythms and making music with every step. After a minute or so, Sarah was guided back to her spot in the crowd. She was in total disbelief. Sure Sarah had taken a few dance classes, but none as complicated as all that. A few other members of the crowd were chosen to participate, none of whom had the success Sarah had. She took off like a shot back down the street. Sarah's loafer's were escaping her feet as she slowed to a trot. How she wished she'd just worn sneakers. Within a second of thinking it, her feet were wrapped in the supportive leather of her sneakers. The trot became a full out run. Something odd was going on and she wondered how much of it was because of Jareth's visit. For the first time in over a week she couldn't wait to get home.

"Arulan, fetch me a healer," he called to the elf. Jareth caught sight of himself in his mirror. "Even a healer couldn't undo this." Gloved fingers combed through what little hair remained. With a snap, the button up shirt and herringbone pants were traded for the king's royal attire and his mane seemed to replenish itself on command. "I still have all the magic I need," he huffed.

When his house elf entered the room, a healer was at her side. Quickly he went to setting up a poultice that would repair the King's torn flesh. "Things did not go as you expected?" Arulan asked him when they were free of the healer's company.

Jareth hissed at her as if they had never had their discussion prior to his leaving, "No Arulan, in fact they went better than I expected."

"But news of the Triumvirate's ruling made it to the castle less than an hour ago."

"I must remember that," he said prowling around her like she were some kind of prey his owl form was hunting. "I don't leave you all with enough to keep you busy throughout the day. I'll have to increase the work load."

The healer returned, smearing a green and orange paste over his wound. It burnt like hell and Jareth found it exhilarating. His trip to the Aboveground had reeducated him to the pleasures of pain. Feeling it and inflicting it. Before the healer could even wipe the paste away, the king was on his feet storming towards the throne room, tossing the occasional stray goblin for fun. A particularly fuzzy one served to remove the paste from his forehead. "Glad to be back," he announced.

"Yer majesty. Let me tell you what I caught these two scoundrels up to."

"Don't care," the returning king said flatly.

"But yer majesty, I'm trying to tell you they have..." Hoggle never finished telling Jareth anything.

"And I'm telling you Hedgewart, I'm relieving you of your responsibilities this instant," Jareth hissed at the dwarf.

Hoggle released the goblins he held in either hand. "Fine! You can have'em!" He threw his hands up in the air. Before he could even step away the two beasts were at one another.

Jareth just let them go at it. He took to his throne conforming to its curves. "Ah," he breathed, "just the way I left it." The Goblin King reached down beside his throne for his riding crop. With some purpose he began to crack it against his thigh. To the goblins who crowded the room with him, it was an ordinary day and he was behaving like himself. But in Jareth's mind, he was punishing himself for what he'd allowed the mortal to do to him. He had tried to harden himself toward her before, but now he had new reasons to try. Jareth had shown her all the tenderness he had inside and she denied him, again. When he conquered the tunnel of riddles and learned to depend and appreciate. These were mistakes he would no longer make. A smirk bent his lips and he whispered softly to himself, "Fool me once, shame on you Sarah. Fool me twice, shame on me. My days of foolishness and shame are over. I am free of you forever. Free of love forever."


	10. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE - REWORKING MAGIC**

Those last three blocks seemed to not even have been there once Sarah wished she were home already. Upstairs, she was pleased to see that Christian wasn't at the apartment. Probably gone drinking with his brother again. A flick of the wrist bolted her front door and she drew the chain, just in case Christian did return. Once Sarah felt secure, she drew the crystal from her pocket. It was a marvelous thing. Reflecting light and color like a prism, able to conform to its container so that even in her pocket it appeared as little more than a bump. Placing it in the center of what should have been a dining room, she moved to the bedroom doorway. Sarah felt foolish concentrating on the crystal sphere and just as she was about to make a wash of it, the thing crept toward her. It was a fascinating display as it rolled across the floor to her feet and then with a hop leapt into her open palm. The crystal began to spin. Sarah tried passing it over the backs of her hands and with little effort it was gliding along the contour of her arms. "Unbelievable," she muttered as she caught the crystal, putting an end to its dance. 'To think I was so impressed with the way the Goblin King moved these things around,' she thought.

Still not convinced that she possessed any of the magic that Jareth and Hoggle insisted she did, Sarah gently set the crystal down on the coffee table. It must have been the source of the magic she'd suddenly found. The damned thing had been in her pocket all day while those strange occurrences were going on. She pulled down a copy of Webster's Dictionary from a bookshelf. Sarah set it on the arm of an overstuffed high back chair she kept nearby. It was a great chair for curling up to read, plus it got light all day from either the sun or a streetlight positioned right outside the window. She concentrated on the book the same way she had with the crystal. Not a budge. Didn't matter that she focused until her head hurt, not one inch.

"Huh?" Sarah said scratching her head. "Maybe I should check the book?" Fast feet took her into the bedroom, where eager fingers rummaged through her drawer. On her way back to the living room, she snatched Christian's watch off the dresser. It could have been that she just needed to start with something smaller. "Typical Christian," she muttered holding the band to the book with her thumb and switching off the light with her empty hand, "spend a fortune on something you want for one moment and then leave the thing lying around as if it serves no purpose to you any longer." By the time she reached the couch, Sarah was nervous inside and out. She felt like she was doing something wrong, hiding something and Christian was suddenly all that was on her mind. Quickly she sat down, emptying her hand so that it could catch her dizzy head. There was nothing she'd done that should have put her on edge this way. It's not like she stole Jareth's magic. He'd given it to her. And Christian, well, it wasn't that she lied to him. It was just that she told him only what he wanted to know and he wanted to know so little.

Whatever it was overcoming her seemed to have passed. Sarah moved to get the book, her hand wrapped around the gold watch in an attempted to lift it out of her way. No sooner had her fingers encircled the time piece her head seared with pain as though it were about to split in two. With no further warning, images began to pass through her head like a slide show presentation. First she saw Christian walking into a jewelry store. He tried on a couple of watches that were outside the cases and available to the customers. When someone was finally free to assist him, he leaned on one of the counters and pointed down. Delicate hands lifted a watch out of the case and set it on the flat glass surface. There was no jewelry on the hands, which Sarah couldn't help but find odd, working in a shop that sold so much of it. Sarah's stomach started to fill with butterflies. The same feeling she'd gotten the night before when Jareth had pulled her to him and began letting down her hair. In her mind's eye, she saw those delicate fingers working the latch that anchored the band around Christian's wrist. Those were woman's hands. She knew it, not by the look of them, for on the face they were indistinguishable, not particularly large or hairy, delicate, but not feminine, per say. It was the touch, the touch that made her tingle while she was in Christian's point of view. The touch and the sudden overwhelming fragrance of roses in the air.

Disgusted by the feelings she was having over a woman, Sarah threw the watch down. "What the hell was that all about?" her voice shook as she spoke to the floor. Knees still knocking, she forced herself to the kitchen for a glass of water. She sat on the stool where Jareth had sat. Pulling an ice cube out of her glass, her fingers slid it over the artery in her neck trying desperately to quench the heat her imagination was building there. Kisses had come and gone in her 30 years, not all of them had been passionate, but there were some that were very much so. Dare she say, there were some that had put that kiss between Jareth and her to shame, except for that wonderful sensation he left along her back when he had snaked over her spine with his tongue. That kind of magic was his alone. Or the strange feeling of those jagged teeth on her, but was it fair to give him credit for an aptitude that he'd acquired through no merit of his own? The glass of water in Sarah's hand was empty as her lips searched for more of the cool liquid to wash away her recollections. "Best I just concentrate on this magic," she supposed.

Thumbing through the novel, lots of things stood out to her. Statements that started with I wish. Her friends reappearing when she needed them. The crystal that showed Sarah her dreams. Even the promises Jareth tried to make her about love and desires. It all added up to an assemblage of quotations that taught her nothing. 'If only those things came with an instruction sheet,' Sarah imagined looking at the crystal. "I must be overlooking something," she proclaimed as she recited her list aloud hoping that the more senses she could involve the better chance she'd have of finding a clue.

"Hoggle," she whined, "I need you."

"What is it?" the dwarf asked sounding particularly annoyed.

"I know Jareth's back Hoggle."

"So."

"Hoggle please." Sarah stared down at him, pleading with her eyes. "I've done something terrible."

If she was working at catching his attention, she had it. With new curiosity he studied her eyes. Genuine upset settled deep inside the emerald rings staring back at him. Perhaps it was best if he talked to her, Jareth wasn't going to offer anything up, that was for damned sure. A sigh filled the room, "Whatever you've done, it can't be as bad as all that." Before he could shimmy onto the couch next to her, the tears were falling. "Why do women have to cry so much?" he grumbled.

"I wished him back."

"You did what?" That just made her cry harder. "Now, I didn't mean that the way it sounded. What I meant was..er..."

"You meant it just as you said," Sarah admitted between sobs. "He came to ask me to return his magic and I wished him back. He tried to tell me that I didn't know what I was capable of, but I didn't listen."

"Seems to me it can't be that simple. Few things with Jareth are."

"It's not!" she cried standing up to pace across the floor. "Hoggle, I can't even remember how it all happened. It's a blur. A hazy dream that I can't wake up from." Sarah's eyes closed. "I went to my audition and the producer hired me on the spot. Then during a break I met this guy, his name was Tony something and he was auditioning for Marius and wanted to sing with me. He had an agent named Jeremy, only it wasn't Jeremy, it was Jareth. He was arrogant and conniving and got Tony in there without even an appointment or something. I should have known then. Should have guessed it by the way he kissed my hand, but he looked so different."

"Tony?"

"No Jareth," Sarah confirmed opening her eyes. "He was in a suit and his hair was so much shorter, more coiffed. He didn't even have any make up on." She went to grab the grey herringbone jacket she'd left in the kitchen earlier that morning. "He threw it out!" Sarah rummaged through the apartment. "It was here, I pulled the crystal out of the pocket and set it back down on the...and then I went to rehearsal...and that sonofabitch threw it out while I was gone."

"Jareth?"

"No Christian!"

"Oh, you're not making any sense," Hoggle complained throwing his hands up in the air.

Jareth was posing as an agent and Tony convinced him to put on a suit and cut his hair so he'd fit in more and not look so out of place. He left his suit coat here."

"How'd he get here?"

"Followed me from the auditions I guess. I was so excited that I danced and sung the whole way home. I think a herd of wild elephants could have come up behind me and I wouldn't have known." It took a minute, but as she recounted the story for Hoggle, Sarah realized that Jareth would have had to follow her in order to find her apartment. "And he saw the whole thing. Jareth saw me acting like a fool on the way home. He must have thought I was such an idiot."

Hoggle muttered under his breath, "Not likely," but Sarah didn't hear him.

"Jareth snuck up on me once we were inside the apartment. He asked if I knew him and I had to admit he was familiar, but he looked so ordinary, until I saw those eyes. I mean I should have realized sooner. The way he leaned back into the table, the cool and easy way he drew me to him. But I didn't figure it out until I kissed him..."

"Until you did what?" Hoggle interrupted.

But the storyteller wasn't paying attention anymore, "That's when I knew. When my eyes were closed and it was just the feel of him."

"Stop it, stop it," the dwarf snapped jumping down from the couch and standing at Sarah's feet. "What's with you always kissing people? Didn't you learn anything from last time we ended up in the Bog of Eternal Stench?" His short legs made his feet stomp and his arms were stretched out waiting to catch his head.

"Huh?" Sarah half broke from her recollection to take notice of her friend. "He started it," she grinned.

Hoggle made a noise with his throat and it was easy to assume that he was disgusted at the idea of Sarah being with Jareth in such a personal way. "Skip all the mushy stuff and get to where you wish him back."

The blush that kept returning made its appearance on her cheeks once again, "We were," she watched as Hoggle's eyes rolled, "preoccupied when Christian got home. He was furious when he saw Jareth. Thought he was the producer for the show and that I was earning my part."

More noises emerged from the dwarf, "Oh, I bet he did. Sarah, how could you be so irresponsible?"

She looked at him in disbelief. Had he really just said that to her? "Listen, you weren't there. You don't understand how charming he can be. Hoggle, it was amazing, for the first time I understood all he tried to tell me in the Labyrinth. He tried to love me, in his own way, but he tried. I was too young to understand about those things, but now, well let's just say that now the right words said the right way can all have a very powerful effect on a woman my age, especially when she's not used to hearing them."

"Even when they're said by a man who erased your memory?" Ironically, she'd forgotten that. "Even if he probably had some hidden agenda in mind?"

"But they weren't. I mean they were, but I swear he looked completely different and by the time I put two and two together I was already very taken with him." For a minute she looked dreamily off into the air that separated her from Hoggle. Then as if a pin had popped a delicate soap bubble, her euphoria faded away, "Jareth did want something. The powers he had given me, he wanted them back. But he didn't just come out and tell me that. Jareth tried to seduce me first. If Christian hadn't come home, he'd probably have succeeded too." Sarah did her best to sound angry.

Believing only half of her disappoint was in the fact that Jareth tried and sensing that the rest was from his not having succeeded, Hoggle flatly accused Sarah of not making the Goblin King try all that hard. Her hurt eyes bore into him, "Never mind all that. What's done is done and there's no use arguin' about it. What happened after Christian came home?"

"He said awful, awful things."

"Jareth?"

She shook her head wildly, "No, Christian. Jareth got between the two of us and Christian hit him. I went to see if Jareth was alright, but Christian tossed me aside and tore my dress. Then Jareth punched him a handful of times until he passed out."

"And you wished him home for sticking up for you?"

"No, that's when he told me the real reason he was here. I was hurt and confused. I knew I owed Christian an explanation. Part of me was feeling guilty about what I had allowed to happen with Jareth. So I asked him to leave. When he persisted, I wished him away to the Underground and told him to never contact me again."

"Eh," the tiny sound came from her friend. Hoggle's head buried into his palms. "That explains it," he mumbled.

"Explains what?"

"Sarah, all those years ago, Jareth gave you fey magic." Lifting his weary head so she could hear him more clearly, Hoggle continued, "What no one knew was that you had mortal magic of yer own. It's part of what helped you defeat him when you were Underground. Jareth risked everything to come Aboveground. He had to wager his power over all mortals, forever. You sent him back to the Labyrinth with no power over mortals and you forbid him to ever see you again. You might as well have taken an iron blade to his heart. Now the king's back home brooding over all that's transpired and the Underground is continuing to wither as he withers."

Comprehension washed over Sarah's face, "And it's all my fault."

"No, no, no," the dwarf paced, "it's his own damn fault for not being honest with you. Never mind whose fault it is. I've got to live in the kingdom with him, you don't"

Sarah sat down again. Suddenly her knees felt weak and her legs made of rubber. "Would this be a bad time to tell you that there's more to it?"

"Yes," Hoggle answered her honestly. "But tell me anyways."

Patting the spot next to her, Sarah indicated that he should rejoin her on the couch. "When Christian came to I was so pissed and he was being such an ass that I blurted out all the things I've felt for months. That's when I found Jareth's sport coat with the crystal and told him I'd sent the wrong man home."

Snorting, he told her, "Makes no difference. Even if you had 100 crystals you could never summon Jareth back."

"Never?" she asked apprehensively.

"Never."

Regret stung Sarah like tiny needles all over her skin. She was numb. "What about my mortal magic? Can that bring him home?"

"Jareth is home Sarah and you'd be smart to leave it that way."

"But I owe him an apology."

"What's said is said."

Furious, she balled her hands into fists, "Why must you all talk that way? Apologies are made every day. Mistakes fixed. Scripts rewritten. Scenes redone. I can make this right."

Gently the dwarf took her hand into his own, "You've denied him twice now. You've had a taste for what he's like, do you honestly believe he'll let you get close enough to do it again?"

Hoggle was right. Sarah knew it even if she didn't want to admit it. "Then what good is magic, fey or mortal, if I can't fix anything with it?"

"That's not always what magic does." Resisting wasn't an option. Hoggle knew that sooner or later, he'd have to explain Sarah's magic to her. Now seemed just as good a time as any. "Sarah you were born with mortal magic, every mortal is. Thing is, most of 'em stop believin' in it before it even develops. You were different. You believed in mythicals and magic to begin with."

"What are mythicals?"

Did he say she could ask questions? Oh, her friendship was frustrating, but she was who she was and to him it was worth it. "Mythicals are anything that mortals have trouble believin' in. The creatures of the Underground and other kingdoms, other realms." Clearing his throat he got the discussion back on track. "Because you believed and did so much to actively call your magic it never left, but you didn't know how to develop the skill, so it was weak. I don't completely understand mortal magic. I know each mortal can have a different kind, sometimes two or three kinds. Typically, a mortal will be labeled artistic. They can do something with their physical talent, sing, paint, write. Only they do it in a way that's able to touch other people. But you see, it's not art, it's magic. You make people feel what you want 'em to feel. Think, hear or see what you want. It's a mortal's need for control. There are other more unique magics. With mortals they're less about disruptin' the elements and more about manipulatin' the physical. Your kind will move things about or touchin' somethin' will spark sight. You obviously had the more common form of mortal magic and then Jareth went and gave you fey magic. Fey magic is more about disruptin' the elements, fabricatin' crystals and changin' their forms, glamours, wishes, reorderin' time, changin' the properties of the universe, creatin' material..."

"Destroying it," Sarah interrupted.

"Sometimes." No sense in keeping the truth from her. "When you defeated him your mortal magic grew stronger. By then you'd started to deny yourself the fey magic and yer natural powers were stunted to the artistic ones I just described." A heavy sigh escaped him, "Now that you and Jareth have shared souls..."

"Oh no, it didn't go that far."

Hoggle laughed at her naivety. "You kissed didn't ya?"

She nodded.

"When fey kiss out of love Sarah, they exchange bits of their souls. You worry about what you would have lost if Jareth had completed his seduction, but the truth is that he stood to lose more than you. As it is, he's given up so much of himself that it's had a physical effect on the Labyrinth." Sarah looked away, but the dwarf pressed on sure that she was too curious to be ignoring him. "Like I said, now that you hold a piece of his soul, your fey powers are heightened. Have you tried manipulatin' the crystal?"

"I rolled it around a little, got it to jump into my hand." What did all this matter? How was it going to fix things between her and Jareth?

"Good. I see you haven't broken it, that's good. It's magic is tuned to you now and it's heightenin' your mortal magic."

The watch! Sarah reached out and grabbed the gold ornament. Squeezing it tightly in her palm the visions consumed her once again. There was that hand. "Hoggle, I can see Christian buying this watch," she whispered.

Jareth's magic had sparked sight in Sarah after all. It had been a long time since a seer had been in the Underground, but Hoggle remembered some of the basics and he talked Sarah through what she was experiencing. "You must keep this all in perspective. What yer seeing is just an image. It can't hurt you any. You control the situation. Look around, yer not limited to what it shows you."

The hand was touching Christian's again. Sarah forced herself to look up the ambiguous appendage, up the narrow arm to the bared shoulder. "There's a woman. She's smiling at him." Sarah turned her eyebrows as though she was listening very carefully.

"You make that look very good," the woman said.

Christian was smiling back at her as he turned the watch over and over in the light. "Do you think?"

"Um huh," she purred. "And you're in luck. We're running a special today? Buy that watch and you can have all my spare time this Saturday." Was she trying to be clever? Christian quickly handed her a wad of cash.

"Well that explains where he was going!" Sarah cried as her vision seemed to fast forward. The rushing images made her fall back on the couch. "Hoggle?" she called out.

"I'm here Sarah. Listen for my voice. I can't touch you while you're having a vision, but you should be able to hear me. I ain't gonna leave you." It was troubling him to see her this way and he felt so helpless. "Damn you Jareth," he whispered.

"Mr. Standyne," she called to him from a table in the corner of a dark restaurant.

He sat with her, "Call me Christian," he instructed her as he joined her there.

Images were moving about, speeding up and slowing down. Sarah wanted to let go of the watch, but the object in her hand seemed to sense her thoughts and shook violently with more to say. The couple was laughing and drinking. Innocent conversational touches grew to be something more and despite her clenched eyes, Sarah was seeing it all. The strange woman's foot slid from her black heeled shoe and worked it's way up his leg. Nestled in his crotch, her ankle rotated. Christian looked as though he were going to lose control of himself at the table. A cocktail of anger and disgust mixed in Sarah's stomach. She watched her lover gingerly stand, toss a handful of bills to the table and guide the stranger from the restaurant under his protective arm to his vehicle. As he drove, the woman worked at his restrictive pieces of clothing, a tie, a belt. Then it was her shoes that came off. By the time they'd gotten to the parking lot of the hotel neither one had enough clothing remaining to approach the office. He didn't suggest that they do it. Quite the contrary, he told her how beautiful she looked, how much she made him crazy. Then she persuaded him to the back seat where, in an act of blatant exhibitionism that was remarkably unlike Christian, the couple engaged in a variety of sexual acts; exchanging oral gratification with one another and culminating in unprotected intercourse.

Sarah felt herself deflate. It had been years of her trying to get him to be more adventurous, wanting to please him but feeling as though she had never been given the opportunity and there he was satisfying himself with another woman without any concern for disease or pregnancy or the sanctity of what little relationship he had with his long-term girlfriend. They scurried for their clothes when they noticed a patrol car passing the parking lot. Christian drove her back to her car, jabbering the whole way. He went on about how this was very unlike him and she had been the first woman he had cheated with. Feelings of truthfulness came over Sarah and they were very strong. It pleased her to believe him because at least she knew that if he had brought anything home, he wouldn't be giving it to her. The woman in the passenger seat smiled weakly as she got out of the car. "Can I give you a call?" Christian asked her. She obviously didn't want any baggage. A good time was all she was searching for and all his heavy confessions had destroyed what chemistry had been between them because she shook her head side to side and blew him a kiss as her long legs swept over the concrete on the way back to her car.

Having admitted everything it knew, the watch stilled in her palm and she set it back on the table. Tears were filling her eyes, but she refused to let them fall as she concentrated on the blue in Hoggle's sympathetic stare. "He cheated on me."

"I figured as much from the look on your face." Standing on the cushions, he reached out to stroke her hair. "He doesn't deserve you Sarah." After some time of her sitting, staring off silently he asked, "Do you understand your mortal magic now?"

'Better than I want to,' Sarah thought as the shock started to subside. "What can I do with the crystal?"

"Are you sure you're ready?"

"What the hell do I have to lose?" Her body felt numb and she wondered why people were always saying the truth hurt. Right now, she couldn't feel a thing.

"It's hard to explain, but I'll try. Jareth offered you your dreams. He granted yer wishes. Wanted yer needs to be met. That's why when you left you had to need us if we were to return to you." As he spoke, Sarah had called the crystal to her and spun it mindlessly in her palm. "If you look in that thing you can see your dreams. If you wish for them they should come true."

Quickly, Sarah stared into the ball until she could see Jareth again, "I wish I had Jareth back!" she shouted.

"Told you that won't work," Hoggle said, triumph apparent in his voice. "You can't undo yer own wishes." In his heart, he didn't think Sarah was ready for the crystal or the power that came with it. "Just give me that thing 'fore you cause yerself anymore problems."

"How am I gonna do that?" she asked with little emotion. She was just like Jareth, stubborn and gloomy, bent on punishing herself.

"Just give it to me." The dwarf made a clumsy grab for the sphere and toppled into her lap. Sitting himself up right he grumbled some more.

"What else can it do?"

"Depends."

"On..."

"On what powers Jareth gave you this last visit. I can't believe he was fool enough to leave it with you in the first place. That was supposed to be his key home if he got trapped here in the Aboveground." Hoggle's mouth hung open as he watched his words register in Sarah's head.

It wasn't quite a gleam, but her skin lit up and she smiled into the crystal, "This is a key to the Underground?"

"No!"

"But you just said," she confronted him.

"Never mind what I said. Don't you get any ideas," his finger waged at her. "You can't just show up in the Underground, Jareth's on a war path and the Tri..."

His words went on, but Sarah was lost in a vision of she and Jareth swaying on a dance floor. He held her close as she whispered her apology to him. Her mortal magic and her fey magic were mixing her up, causing her to see her dreams as reality. "If I can't get him to come to me," she said slowly, "I'll just go to him."

Sarah rose and Hoggle fell to the floor as he made one more attempt to steal the crystal from her hand. Immediately he hopped to his feet and was after her reaching for the orb. Extending one hand to make contact with his leather cap she held him at bay. Repeatedly he shouted, "It's not fair." His stout arms and legs shook and flailed as he attempted to break free of her hold and recover the object but it was no use, she had a significant height advantage over him and he tired quickly. "I ain't gonna talk you outta this am I?" he yielded.

Side to side her black hair waved at the back of her concrete skull.

His hand held his head again. "Why do I bother."

"What do I have to do Hoggle?"

"How should I know?"

For a moment she'd forgotten how he expected to have questions asked of him and was irritated by his seeming indifference to her. Then in a moment of recollection she rephrased her query, "How do I use this as a key to the Underground?"

"First you must be certain that you truly wish to attempt this. Mortals are not very welcome in our world. If you decide to continue on this idiot's quest and if Jareth has given you enough power, which I fear from your recount he has, then you need only look into the crystal, envision the Underground and wish yourself there. But I just want to be perfectly clear in telling you that I definitely do not suggest you do this."

"Thank you Hoggle," Sarah said as she leaned down to kiss his cheek.

"Oh," he grumbled, "stop kissing everybody!" He was half joking as he disappeared from her living room.

On the couch, Sarah sat still spinning the crystal. Was she really considering doing this? Why? So she could tell Jareth she was sorry? Was she? The questions led to more questions and there were never any decent answers. She did feel rotten about what had most recently happened, but all those years ago when he took Toby away, she wasn't sorry for that. She still despised the way he tormented her when they last shared the Underground. Aside from all the to hate or not to hate there was something else consuming her. Maturity had brought with it an understanding of what an adult male meant when he begged a young girl to love him. At fifteen the Goblin King was still an asexual creature, another bizarre illusion of the Labyrinth. At thirty, he'd become a man to her. Tall and long, lithe and handsome in a way that no one else could be and full of a very tangible passion that few others possessed. Unlike the girl she'd been, the woman in Sarah prayed to fall victim to him again.

Soon it was obvious that allowing ones mind to wander while holding a crystal was a not particularly a good idea. Inside the orb she could see Jareth smiling back at her as if he were standing the arm's length from her rather than his image trapped beneath the transparent shell. The crystal rolled up the length of her arm and spun against her neck. Sarah could hear soft laughter in her ear and felt warm breath on her skin. A warmth took over inside her as she lay back her head succumbing to the magic her king had left behind.

Interrupted again by Christian's incredible lack of timing, she quickly tucked the crystal behind one of the couch cushions when she heard him approaching. Her twitching fingers reached for the remote and turned on the television. Some nature special was on so Sarah feigned an interest in the preservation movement for panda bears as her roommate entered. Christian's brother, Joshua, was with him, liquor on their breaths. "Hello Christian. Hello Joshua," she said plainly.

"Hi Sarah," Joshua replied. His brother just grunted. "Hope you don't mind if I help Chris pack up his stuff."

"I was just thinking about that," Sarah lied. Well it was only a half lie. She was thinking about what had gone on those last few days and Christian's leaving was part of that bigger picture. "Christian doesn't have to leave."

"Do you see?" he slurred at Joshua his arms barely controlled enough to stretch out to indicate it was Sarah he was talking about. "I've been putting up with that for three years. It's been Christian leave, Christian don't go, Christian let's get married, no Christian I can't marry you until we get our careers in order. How the hell am I supposed to make her happy when she doesn't even know what makes her happy?"

"Sit down before you fall down little brother." Joshua led him to a chair and sat himself next to the woman he had always secretly hoped would one day be his sister-in-law. He turned to address her, "Sarah you know there are few times I agree with my brother, even fewer since I've met you," Sarah smiled at him warmly as he continued, "but even I have to admit, you're not making any sense."

"I don't want to make sense. With Christian I always had to be the responsible one. I worked, I paid the bills and took care of the house. What did it get me?" Her attention focused like a laser on the man in the chair, "He runs off and sleeps with a complete stranger who sells him an overpriced watch that he couldn't even pay for on his own in the first place."

Hurling through the air, the timepiece landed in his stomach with a thwack. Instinctively he picked it up. Staring at it was like downing a pot of black coffee suddenly making him feel incredibly sober. "I...how...someone lied to you Sarah." Reason had never been a strong point for Christian.

"You lied to me!"

"Well what did you expect? You can be awfully cold sometimes and a man gets lonely. He needs to be reminded that he still has it."

'What an unbelievable load of shit!' Sarah thought, but instead her mouth spat out, "I was naked in the shower the morning you left. You could of as easily had me as her. Christ, I would have enjoyed it. I don't think you've touched me outside our bedroom, in the light, in all the time we've been together." She blushed remembering that Joshua was there. "Don't you think a woman needs a little reassurance too, especially just a few days after her thirtieth birthday?"

Head in hand he had to admit it, "OK, I screwed up. OK? I'm sorry."

Oh this was rich! Did he really consider that an apology? Though Sarah never thought it possible Christian was proving himself more useless by the minute.

"So you found out about him and the sales woman and set up the little scene with..." Joshua fumbled for a name.

"Jeremy?" Sarah offered. "No. I didn't find out about her until this afternoon. What I told him was true. Jeremy," she hated calling Jareth by his pseudonym, "is an old friend from my past and seeing him brought up a lot of emotion for me."

"Old is right!" Christian blurted.

Joshua could see something in Sarah's eyes. He didn't feel he knew her well enough to say just what, but he knew the two of them well enough to know that his younger sibling had screwed up the best relationship he'd ever had, impressed by the determination in Sarah's rigid form, the best thing he ever would have. "So you're saying..."

Sarah cut him off, "That Christian doesn't have to leave."

"I knew you'd forgive me baby." Stammering across the room he made a lunge for her. "You couldn't bear to be without me could you? Well, I'll take you back even after what you did with the geezer, but you're gonna have to earn my trust again." He collapsed between her and Joshua on the floor. His head resting on Sarah's knee.

Gentility aside, she shoved it away. "I'm leaving." Joshua looked at her in shock. Christian wasn't hearing any of the conversation as unconsciousness put him in a dream state far from reality. "If you wouldn't mind Josh, I'd like you to scoop your brother off the floor and put him to bed at your place. By morning, I'll be gone."

"Are you sure this is what you want Sarah?"

A brotherly hand overtook her own and she spent a moment realizing how nice it was to have someone ask her about herself, to show concern for her well being. With her other hand she patted the back of Joshua's hand and smiled sweetly at him. The tears in her eyes glistening as she told him, "No, but that just makes me want it more."

Thankfully, Joshua didn't argue with Sarah. Even more thankfully, Christian stayed sleeping until well after he'd left the apartment. The small apartment was empty again, but for Sarah who was busily making herself something to eat, "Ought to take a little something for sustenance," she said as she set aside some fruits and cheeses, a bag of carrot sticks and a box of crackers. She microwaved herself a plate of left-overs. Irony overcame her as she began laughing at the digital display, the numbers counting down. She ate well as she didn't want to be getting hungry ten minutes into her adventure.

After filling herself to near bursting, Sarah decided to shower. Hot water relaxed every joint and muscle in her body. She scrubbed her skin, washed her hair and since she wasn't sure how long she'd be gone, Sarah shaved her underarms and legs. 'Better safe than sorry,' she figured. Grabbing the back brush, she worked the bristles into a thick lather. Abrasive stalks took the itch out of her skin, but when they found the bruise on her shoulder that Jareth had caused, Sarah moaned. The flesh was still tender but also still fresh with reverie for the exhilaration she'd felt. It occurred to her that cold water might have been a better choice for showering.

Silk clung to her body as Sarah wrapped a flimsy robe around herself. A half dozen outfits were spread over the mattress before it occurred to her that at most she'd only be able to take one bag. Not even a large one. She had a brown leather knapsack she could take. It was oversized, but not so huge it would be cumbersome. Besides, it had lots of little pockets. Even if Sarah didn't know what she wanted to put in them, it made her feel better knowing they were there. Two pairs of jeans were neatly folded so they wouldn't take up any more room than necessary at the bottom of the bag. On top of those she put in a peasant's top and a long sleeve cable knit sweater. Her last visit to the Underground hadn't been all that uncomfortable in the thin painter's shirt and vest she was wearing, but it was a different time of year. Thirteen hours in the Labyrinth wasn't really enough time to figure out seasonal patterns.

Next the staples, socks, bras, underwear. Sarah made sure to include one pair that she found particularly attractive. All white lace, they covered more than most of her everyday pairs did, but they cut in a way that accented her back side and the lace left enough for a peak. 'Hopefully that would be more enticing than just letting it all hang out,' she thought as she folded them. "Are you going to apologize to him or seduce him?" she asked her reflection. 'Little of both,' Sarah imagined her ego saying back. With a raise of her eyebrow, she agreed. There was plenty of room left in the bag. Just to be safe Sarah chose a lightweight summer shift dress to put inside. It was elegant and simple. A polyblend base with a rayon top layer that blew easily in the wind, dancing around her. It was her favorite, next to the red number she had bought for her audition.

One last time, Sarah looked around this room that she'd spent the last twelve years in. Oddly enough, not much had been accumulated in all that time aside from an impressive collection of musical soundtracks. Suddenly it occurred her, a tiny thought that had always been in the back of her mind was now rushing into the foreground and growing exponentially along the way, what if Sarah never made it home? What if she couldn't? What if she weren't permitted? What if something happened and she... "Don't be ridiculous!" Sarah chastised herself for thinking such things, "It's the Labyrinth, not the lion's den." She set her robe over the back of her chair and a chill swept over her body helping to force the horrid thoughts from her mind. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror of the dressing table. Typically, Sarah dressed and undressed with no great interest in her naked self. Thirty had come and gone without damaging her too badly. There were ten or fifteen pounds she could have stood to get rid of, but that probably stood true for most every woman at any time. Despite what Christian thought and how he acted, it was an attractive body.

He didn't deserve courtesy, but Sarah couldn't sink herself to his level. She sat at the desk and wrote him a letter. It was basic, but it was more than he deserved for how he had treated her. She told him it wasn't his fault she was leaving that she needed to do this for herself. Her things could be packed and put in storage as long as he let her father know how she could get them when she came back. Even though she doubted very much he would do that, probably just sell her things off and pocket the profit. She left behind a lie to tell her parents. Stuart offered her a six month trip to England to study stage with the masters and she was taking advantage of it. Something inside her wondered if her parents would even ask. She hadn't gotten a call for her birthday. She hadn't gotten a call at all in more than a year. 'That makes it all the more simple,' she decided as she signed the letter. Sarah. Not love, not sincerely, not even thinking of you. Just Sarah.

Dressing in jeans and a middle weight long sleeve shirt that looked very much like a man's dress shirt only extraordinarily long. The garment was a throw back to her eighties younger years, but she could never bare to get rid of it. Now she was up to two security blankets. The dresser and the shirt...and the book! She grabbed her bag and burst into the living room. Her copy of the Labyrinth went into the bag along with everything else. Lastly she added the food. One of the pockets on the side of her bag was designed for a water bottle. Sarah slid in a bottle of Dasani and then busied herself going over her mental list of what she needed to take with her. Seemingly, she had everything and nothing all at the same time. There was no turning back. Despite everything she had thought, to the good and to the bad, she still wanted to pick up that crystal and wish herself away. Away from this apartment. Away from Christian. Away from this miserable city where she was constantly pretending to be someone else. Eponine! She was walking out on playing Eponine. Sara reached into her closet and pulled down a pair of neutral colored dress boots which she thought would go with just about everything she had packed. This role was the one thing that could reignite her career. Sitting down on the couch to put her boots on Sarah wished things could become clear to her, something that would tell her she wasn't turning her back on what Stuart thought was the opportunity of a lifetime.

The crystal popped out of the couch cushions and rolled to place before her eyes. Inside she could see the producer of the show she was to appear in. He was taking money from a man Sarah had never seen before. One image faded as another rose, the front page of a local paper showing the same group under a headline that read 'Embezzling Producer Presents - Curtains Close Before They Open'. The date of the paper was three weeks in the future. All that hard work and it would have been for nothing. Tony was the next thought on her mind. As though the crystal knew that, the image inside changed again. Tony was dancing and singing a part from West Side Story and Sarah recognized the stage he was on as she would recognize her own father in a crowd. He was on Broadway. A tear rolled down Sarah's cheek and for the first time in longer than she cared to think about it fell from happiness. The show that was supposed to be her big break had been scandalized. Her only friend had made it to the only stage that mattered. But in all the visions of this world the crystal had to show her, Sarah saw nothing of promise for herself.

A new determination filled her. She slung the bag over her shoulder as a shaking hand reached out to grab the crystal. Concentrating, she forced an image of the Labyrinth into her mind. Clouds swirled inside the orb as a surge of heat rushed down her arm and into her fingertips. When the clouds cleared, it was the view from the second story balcony window of her parents' old home. The doors had been thrown open and the curtains blew wild in a wind that came from nowhere. Sarah moved forward in the image looking out over the balcony rails to a vast desert land that led to acres of maze, a castle rising high above the walls. "It doesn't look that far," she heard herself say.

"It's further than you think," the wind answered as she turned to see her old house was gone. Eager feet pounded on the reddish sand beneath them as she ran toward the maze.

"I wish I was back there," Sarah said. "I wish it with all my heart."

This time the apartment was truly empty.


	11. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN - IN A STUMP IN THE FOREST THERE LIVED A HOGGLE**

A smell of magic filled the air surrounding her and Sarah breathed it in with a deep appreciation before she opened her eyes to take in the sights around her. "Holy shit!" she gasped in the middle of the great emptiness, suddenly feeling like the foolish fifteen year old from some other time. Things around her looked much the same as she remembered them only deader. What was grey had gone black. The red clay that led up to the doors of the Labyrinth had turned to sand now rising in puffs behind her heels. A few steps away lay her crystal. Her hand reached out for it, but when her warm skin made contact with it, the orb popped as though it had been made of soap. For a moment or so she stood there not sure what it meant for her to be in such a place as this without one of Jareth's crystals. Then, seeing no alternative, she continued on the short road to the doors, sliding the last third of the way when a pile of the flimsy dust came loose and her less than suitable footwear combined to drop her at the foot of a familiar face.

"Oh, it's you," Hoggle said reaching a hand out to help her stand.

Sarah brushed herself off. "Hoggle, it worked!"

"I see that."

"You could show a little enthusiasm."

Thick legs cast him a foot or so into the air as his arms flailed, "Yippy!" Sarcasm, blatant and obvious, filled his tone.

"Thanks a lot Hoggle." A touch of her own sarcasm in the words, it was more her hurt and disappoint Sarah was trying to convey. "So what do I do now?" She hadn't intended to ask that aloud, but it had been said now. Too late to take it back.

"Looks like you haven't thought about this very much." The dwarf crossed his arms over his chest and snorted, "I warned you."

It was hard not to let the tears rush to her eyes when he was being so cold to her, but she made certain none of those tears fell. "I meant there's so much I want to do and see, I hardly know where to begin."

"S'hat so?" Hoggle's eyebrows rose as he asked the rhetorical question. Pursing the corner of his mouth, he continued on, "I'll tell you what yer not gonna do. Night's preparin' to fall and the Labyrinth is the last place you wanna be at night." Coldness was rapidly being replaced by concern in his tone.

Food and clothing had been on her mind when she was packing, but shelter never occurred to her. Last time she visited the Labyrinth, night had never fallen and it was just as late then as now. "I didn't think you guys experienced night here."

"Hmpf! You wouldn't. Jareth was so busy reorderin' time for you that night got skipped in yer honor." Hoggle took notice of the spark his words left in her eye. He supposed, to her, it seemed like a compliment. "You'll come and spend the night with Drema and me."

"Fantastic!" Sarah started toward the door, but Hoggle called to stop her.

"I might work in and around the Labyrinth, but I don't live in it." He explained.. Reaching out a hand and giving a jerk of his head, Hoggle drew Sarah back to his side. When he felt her tiny hand slide into his he directed, "This way." A few steps into their path away from the Labyrinth the dwarf realized that he'd forgotten his atomizer. "Wait here," he told Sarah when he left her to go get it. 'That's odd,' he thought when he bent over to pick up the rusty sprayer. The ground where Sarah had stood was green and the path they had walked away on was dotted with blades of grass. "By the Supreme One," he said aloud, "She's bringin' the Underground to life." Now he knew he couldn't hide her from Jareth, not for long anyway. The king would not overlook changes in his kingdom nor would he appreciate them even less. Fear swept over Hoggle's face and gave his feet new fury as he ran to catch up with Sarah.

If it was true that Sarah's presence was bringing the Underground to life, and it was, the same could be said in return. Yet to understand why, in a very strange way, being back, even just a few moments, Sarah felt alive. She no longer had to mold herself to fit a role. Here it wasn't necessary to feign interest in any of a hundred topics Christian wanted to discuss. Stuart wasn't preparing for auditions by giving her topics to study that would impress some producer rather than just focusing on her talent, which should have been the selling point to begin with. Freedom was hers to run wild in and it thrilled her. A pulsing warmth grew inside her chest. The sensation spread to her arms and legs reaching all the way to her fingers and toes. She caught a smile beginning to tug at the corners of her mouth. It had been along time since Sarah hadn't forced one of those.

"Quit yer daydreamin'," Hoggle called up to his traveling companion.

Snapped out of her own self indulgence, Sarah took a moment to look around. To any side of them were tall trees with wide trunks. If they hadn't been walking away from the Labyrinth, she would have expected the fire gang to come rushing out of the thickets ready to be as helpful as they could with their bizarre song and dance. Instead she saw a wide array of other creatures. Her eyes could not grow large enough to take it all in. "Hoggle," she began in a low calm tone trying to be wary of the surroundings which were becoming more bizarre the further they walked, "where are we?"

In retrospect, the dwarf realized he should have better prepared her for what she was about to see, but the easy part of the past was the fact that you couldn't change it. Hearty laughter wheezed from his lungs, "This is my home. The southeastern sector of the Underground beyond the Labyrinth walls. It's a protected woodland where wood sprites, elves and dwarfs," he accentuated by drawing his hands to his chest, "are primarily assigned to live." From the corner of his eye he spied another pesky fairy and drew back the hand pump of his atomizer. "Of course, there are no formal boundaries here," he depressed the handle and a cloud of smoke engulfed the fairy before it fell to the ground, "which means any old riff raff can wander in."

On the path before them a rabbit scurried passed. It paused a second and met Sarah's gaze eye to eye. For a second she could have sworn she saw it's pupils grow wide in surprise and it's ears jolt back, but it was gone before she could be sure. "Did you see that?"

"See what?" Hoggle asked nastily, when she interrupted his victory dance performed for having killed another fairy.

"There was a rabbit up ahead by those trees and I swear it just looked at me."

"Oh no, not already. Was he 'bout this big?" Hoggle indicated with his hands the size of an average cat, "Snowy white?"

Sarah nodded.

"Damned Easter Bunny," Hoggle cursed. It made Sarah giggle. "I wouldn't laugh if I was you. If he decides to tell Tiberon you're here, Jareth will be hunting for you by morning, if he waits that long."

"Whose Tiberon? And what makes you think that Jareth would want to hunt me?" Sarah asked.

"I'll explain when I gets you home," he told her flatly and began dragging her through the woods as his tiny legs pumped with all their might.

All the little creatures seemed to take notice of the two of them rushing by. Sarah assumed it was because they were curious as to why they were moving so quickly, but their faces weren't showing curiosity. They weren't fearful that something terribly dangerous was on their heals. They smiled beneath their steady stares. Their faces were happy. It made Sarah smile too. She felt safe here.

"Just a few more stumps," Hoggle told her between gasps for breath. "Come on."

The feeling of safety was fleeting as Sarah looked ahead a few stumps and saw a tall fey leaning against what remained of an oak. His high black leather boots caught her attention first, then the black tights, the white painter's shirt, the black coat, black gloves and black hair. Until the hair she thought it was Jareth waiting for them. Sarah was even more frightened when she realized she didn't know who in the hell it was that stood poised with a Cheshire grin waiting for them. "Ho...Ho...Hoggle!" Her feet refused to move and the dwarf was jerked back to her stationary position forcing him to take his attention off of the ground.

His eyes met with Tiberon's as nervous laughter preceded his shaky vocalization, "Ah, ah...you see, I was surveyin' the gates for the night and, um...well you know how out of it Jareth's been lately, he must have taken another baby and the mortal was gonna go into the Labyrinth. And so...I told her until I could reach Jareth and he reordered time, it wasn't safe...my code permitted me from lettin' her enter the maze." Where had that come from.

"I see," Tiberon told the dwarf, never removing his stare from Sarah. Terrified, she looked away. The fey moved in on her trying to force her to fully reveal her face. "And what is the mortal's name?"

Sarah didn't answer, she could barely breath. "Ruth," Hoggle attempted to say as naturally as possible. It was a mortal name, he knew that much. Jareth had taken a baby girl from a sitter whose name was Ruth about a year ago.

"And how long ago was the child taken?"

Glancing at a watch that wasn't on his wrist, "Nearly three hours," the dwarf chose.

"Ah then I should go tell our sire that his mortal is present and wishes to engage in the, what is it now, twelve hour, battle for her child." He rose his hand gesturing as though he were going to transport himself immediately.

"No, no, that won't be necessary. I've already let him know that she's here. I just haven't told him about night fallin'. He'll want her to have the benefit of light so that it's a fair fight between them."

Tiberon spun on Hoggle, "When has Jareth ever been interested in what was fair?" He rose to face the young woman, "And besides," he continued taking her hand, covering it with his other hand as he felt it quaking, "it is my duty and privilege as Representative to greet those who enter my sector." Tiberon took to one knee and kissed the delicate hand he held. "Ms. Williams?"

Horrified that she'd been recognized and by a stranger, the woman hastily drew back her hand. Hoggle charged forward waving a finger at Tiberon, "Now you see here, you've got no business with her. She's here as my guest."

Gently, he lay a hand on Hoggle's shoulder, "Calm yourself little one. I am no Judas. Were I to hastily announce the arrival of the Legend, I would do myself the disservice of missing the opportunity to get to know her better." A hearty laughter filled the space between them. Tiberon rose and addressed Sarah, "You miss, have a great following here in the Underground. Most of us have come to refer to you as the Legend while honestly believing that we would never meet the woman behind the tale, yet here you stand, the mortal child who defeated the King of the Goblins, Ruler of the Underground. It is with great pleasure that I extend to you the use of my lands and of my services." He bowed low to her in respect.

Sarah was stunned. These people thought of her as a legend. "No one's ever beaten him before?" she asked innocently.

The Representative of the Southeastern sector rose from his bow with a chuckle on his lips, "No one before and no one since, miss."

"Please call me Sarah."

"Sarah," he repeated. "What business have you in the Underground?"

Hoggle gave her a wary glance. After all, no one but the three of them knew what had transpired between Sarah and Jareth. The Representatives already found him uptight and out of sorts, two thirds of the Triumvirate thought he was evil, might as well save what little reputation he had left. "I've come to visit with some old friends," she told him. Her eyes met Tiberon's and their individuality made her words trail off. This fey had violet eyes, electric violet, if such a color existed.

"Our King has been quite smitten with you for a number of years and while I'm sure he'd be enraptured to see you on any average occasion he's been a bit quite the ogre as of late."

Perhaps a bit too smugly Sarah replied, "Then I shall save his visit for another day."

Tiberon laughed again, "You are rich." He went on, holding his side, "Save his visit for another day, really, you, meaning to go to the castle after all you've done to him. You mean me to think you the heartless creature that all fey have come to believe mortals to be. I am very much intimidated Sarah Williams." He backed away from her in mock fear, "Please spare me the awesome power of your mortal magic."

"He don't know any better Sarah," Hoggle whispered. "Laugh it off and bid him goodnight."

Sarah chuckled uneasily, "That's right, now off with you Tiberon, lest I turn you into a toad. I bid you goodnight."

"Goodnight, then." Tiberon's laughter could be heard well into the wood, even after he walked away.

"Damn rabbit," Hoggle said to Sarah. "He's always buttin' his twitchy little nose in where it don't belong. Him and his big ears constantly hoppin' from sector to sector overhearin' what's not meant for him to know." He turned to Sarah, "Let's get you inside. This may itch a bit," he warned her as his hand waved and a cloud of glitter blocked her vision for a moment.

When everything settled, Sarah was looking eye to eye with the dwarf and yet standing tall at the same time. "What have you done?" she cried as she tried to adjust to her new point of view. Is this the kind of thing Hoggle saw everyday? 'Christ no wonder he's such a coward,' she caught herself thinking. 'To him Jareth must have seemed twelve feet tall.'

"Relax, it's just to get you into my house. The spell will break the moment you set foot back outside my front door." Hoggle was a bit hurt by her insinuation. It had been a long time since she had spoken to him that way, but a lot had happened to her today and he chalked it up to all that. "What are you waitin' fer? Get inside." He held open the door for her.

"'Bout time you decided to come home," Drema turned expecting a dawdling husband and met instead the miniaturized Sarah, "Oh excuse me! I thought you were..."

"I know what ya thought," Hoggle interrupted as he came around to give a more formal introduction. He leaned in to kiss his wife, "Drema, this is Sarah Williams." Drema's face could not hide her shock. "Sarah, my wife, Drema."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Drema said to Sarah as she extended her hand.

Overcome, Sarah reached for the woman and pulled her into a tight embrace. This was the woman who agreed to name her child after Sarah, having never met her. Drema responded with a grasp of her own. In her arms she held a woman who had once been very important to her husband and obviously still was. Hoggle fought back a tear which threatened to fall from his eyes. "You must be starving," Drema insisted as she stretched Sarah out to arm's length. "Come with me, we'll finish setting the table."

Sarah followed Hoggle's wife into their humble kitchen. "Dishes are in the cubbie above the sink, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," she replied as she stretched to wrap her fingers around three plates. She wondered if Hoggle had felt this strange when he visited her world. The women continued to busy themselves in the kitchen. Sarah heard Hoggle playing with the baby in the next room. A sensation filled her that had been vacant since her adolescent days. This had been what home and family felt like to her before Linda ran off with her co-star and her father replaced her mother with Karen. Things had been good then, even if it had been only briefly. Tiny feet pounding off the earthen floor distracted her from what she had been thinking and before her stood the brightest eyed child she had seen Above or Underground in all her years.

"You're Sarah?" the little one asked.

"I am," she replied.

"I am too," the baby told her. "One Sarah," she said holding up one finger and half signing. "Sarah two." This time she held up three fingers and pointed at her mother's helper. It made the mortal smile. Drema smiled along with them. In the other room, Hoggle smiled as well. Finally he let that tear fall, by now it had brought a few friends, but suddenly he didn't mind.

The woman set the table with the help of the toddler who insisted on carrying the silverware. They all took their seats and Hoggle bowed his head and spoke some words of thanks. Cabbage soup was served with a side of fresh greens and some sort of broiled meat. Sarah didn't ask what kind of beast it was for fear she would be repulsed by the answer, though she was sure it wasn't chicken. Sarah One as she had begun calling herself, sat obediently in her high chair eating a bowl of porridge and spinach. Most of it landed on her clothes or in her hair, but she was getting every other spoon in her mouth and that seemed like it was good enough for her parents.

Drema was eager to hear Sarah's take on her first meeting with Hoggle. He tried to postpone the inevitable by interrupting, "I already told you that story."

His wife dismissed him, "I want to hear it the way Sarah sees it."

"Sarah two," the baby chimed in, "her is Sarah two." Despite the three pudgy porridge covered fingers she extended everyone knew what she meant.

After clearing the table and cleaning the baby, the two woman went on with each other for hours about how the mortal had found him spraying the fairies. Sarah explained how she had thought him difficult at first, but in hindsight he had taught her valuable lessons which she kept with her even today. Hoggle smiled proudly though he was headlong into his newspaper now trying to appear uninterested in what he overheard them saying. Recounting the number of times Hoggle had come to her aid forced Sarah to realize just how much she relied on the dwarf. Although they had agreed between themselves to start fresh, she still felt as though she would never be able to do enough to repay his kindness and generosity. Drema shared some of Hoggle's stories with Sarah and the women chuckled over tiny discrepancies like who had been braver or who had needed rescuing more. When retelling about visits Hoggle had made to the Aboveground at Sarah's request, Drema's voice gave away much excitement. She had always wanted to visit the famed Aboveground, but never really had the opportunity.

"Well then, having met you, when I return Aboveground I will call for you," Sarah told her.

From behind his paper Hoggle broke his silence, "If you return."

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked concerned.

Hoggle folded the paper, "Sooner or later Jareth is gonna find out that yer here Sarah. Honestly, how long do you think you can hide out in a fey's backyard before he finds you? And when he does, well I'm just sayin', I don't think he's gonna make it so simple for you to go back."

"Well if he doesn't I'll use my magic." Though she tried to sound confident, it was the chattering of her teeth that forced the words out of her mouth.

The dwarf grunted, "What magic? Mortal magic won't get you home. In fact, it's just gonna grow weaker the longer you're here. Yer fey magic won't get any stronger unless Jareth allows it and I don't see why he would. You haven't got yer crystal any longer."

"How'd you know that?" Sarah asked him.

"I know lots that no one tells me. I have powers of my own you know." He looked down his nose at her suddenly feeling rather unappreciated.

"Hoggle," Sarah said forcing him out of his pout, "am I really the first mortal to defeat Jareth?" Tiberon had opened up her curiosity with his slip of the tongue. She always knew that a powerful thing had happened between them, but this was bigger than she imagined.

"Answer her," Drema insisted when her husband continued to sit at the table his mouth gapping open.

"As Tiberon said, none before and none since. After yer visit here the king sank into a deep depression. If you thought he had been difficult with you, the mortals that followed in yer footsteps never stood a chance against him. He didn't care for the Underground as well as he used ta. The rumors spreadin' among his subjects about his inability to stand up to a mortal child brought up things from his past and that started the Triumvirate questionin' him. He became truly cruel and nearly recluse, leavin' the castle only to take away the children wished to him."

"He didn't seem all that depressed when he paid me his little visit," Sarah rebutted.

Hoggle was slow to reply, but when he did, Sarah instantly wished he hadn't. "That's because he was with you."

Sarah was only now coming to terms with what Jareth had felt for her. Hearing someone else tell her made her feel awful for what she had done to him twice now. "Why bother now? After so much time?" she wondered aloud.

"I was with him in his chambers when he realized he'd truly lost it. All of his power over you that is. The Triumvirate, that is to say the Cleric, had granted him enough power so that he was able to view you in his crystals, but that was all. If he tried to see anyone else connected to you, Christian, Toby, yer parents, nothin' happened. He thought you'd taken his magic. He knew what fey powers he had given you were stimulatin' yer mortal magic and I guess he figured you had gotten strong enough to do such things. He was furious, more so than usual even. Jareth went to the mountains to ask the Triumvirate's permission to face you again, a sort of all or nothin' match."

"Who or what is the Triumvirate and why do they have so much say over Jareth? He's supposed to be king isn't he?" Sarah raged. It wasn't bad enough she had hurt him, now she found out she had humiliated him too. Then something strange occurred to her. "He's been watching me. All these years? How?"

"One question at a time." Hoggle said calmly. It was out of character for the dwarf, normally when Sarah got anxious so did he. Her chest felt sunken. She would not like what she was about to hear. In some detail Hoggle explained the Triumvirate to Sarah, as well as the Underground as it had been and as it is now. He left out the unsolved controversy over the death of Corwyn in an attempt not to frighten her. Besides, if the king wanted to share his past with her it should be his decision. Hoggle respected that as much as he feared Jareth finding out he would have been the one to do it. He lied and told her the Triumvirate doubted Jareth for some cockamamie reason.

Afterward he sighed deeply, "Now as for yer other question. The king used crystals to check in on you over the years. He wanted to be sure you were well."

"When?"

"Every now and then," he saw no point in telling her just how often.

"Well, what if I was doing something personal?" Sarah thought about showering or using a ladies room.

Hoggle blushed and turned his face away, "You were."

Something in the way he said it made it clear to her exactly what kind of moment it had been. "And that's why he wanted a piece of Christian so badly." It made sense now, the way Jareth had struck him until he could no longer stand and then once more for good measure. "I'm so embarrassed."

"Nothing to be embarrassed 'bout," Hoggle told her. "You were only livin' out your life. He knew the possibilities when he summoned yer image and he did it anyway. He was hurt and his requests of the crystal became less and less frequent until the day he thought you'd taken his magic." The dwarf reached for Sarah's hand. "I thought for sure he would destroy you, but the Triumvirate wouldn't allow it. I never thought that anything would actually happen between the two of you."

Drema's ears perked up. Until now she was playing with Sarah One on the floor, but this was starting to sound interesting. She slid closer to the two of them as their voices got lower and lower trying to pick up what she could of their whispered conversation.

"I didn't either. It wasn't what I had intended to happen and especially once I realized it was Jareth. But I felt so natural with him. He wanted me Hoggle and that's more than I can say for Christian. And as much as you might not want to hear it, I wanted him too."

Hoggle fluttered his eyelids and feigned illness. He didn't want to hear such things. "Whatever it might be you think the two of you shared was shattered when you sent him back Sarah. If he was furious the last time you defeated him, he's consumed with rage now. The Triumvirate took away all his powers over all mortals and the Cleric could not convince them to allow Jareth to view you by crystal any longer. I don't think he would even want to in his current state." Sarah's face went long. "I warned you 'bout comin' back here Sarah. The king is not the same fey you knew two days ago, let alone fifteen years ago. You would serve yourself well to hide out in Tiberon's sector until we can figure out some way to get you home."

Tears poured from her eyes. Tears born of anger and regret. Sarah was upset with herself for her mistakes, upset with Hoggle for his honesty and upset with Jareth for his behavior. Hoggle thought about telling Sarah what he'd discovered back at the gates when she arrived, but those tears made him think twice.

"No mommy, Sarah Two do it!" The scream came from the floor.

"Sarah Two is busy honey, let her talk to daddy and I'll put you to sleep," Drema attempted to reason with the girl. Unfortunately she had inherited her father's stubbornness and only became more demanding.

"Sarah Twooooooooooo!" she wailed.

To Hoggle's surprise, he found that her outburst was making the older Sarah smile. Fists ground the tears from her eyes, "Would it be alright if I put her to bed?"

Hoggle nodded.

Sarah bent so that she could address Drema and her child who were still on the floor, "Drema, if you don't mind I would be honored to put Sarah One to bed."

"Oh I wish you would," the dwarf woman replied her weary head sunken into her hands.

Sarah One beamed. Not only was everyone using nicknames, which she considered a small victory over the adults, but now Sarah Two was going to put her to bed. She was on her feet in an instant and grabbed Sarah Two's hand, "Come on, I show you were I seep." Sarah found it charming the way the child spoke, dropping l's and other important letters and yet her intentions remained clear as a bell. In a moment the two Sarah's were inside the child's bedroom. There was a bed with pink fluffy dressings some pieces of furniture for holding toys and clothing and an overstuffed chair all surround by a sea of books and home stitched stuffed replicas of the Labyrinthine creatures Sarah had recognized from her previous adventure. There was a Ludo doll and a marionette of one of the Fire Gang members. Even a small mock Didymus on the back of a shaggy sheepdog. "You sit there," Sarah One pointed to a chair.

Obediently Sarah sat down and no sooner had her seat made contact with the cushion she shot sky high. Turning to inspect the cushion, she discovered a carved version of a nipper tucked in the crevasse where the seat and arm met. She set it aside with a wide grin. The child laughed wildly and then whispered, "That was suppose to be for daddy. It his night to read me to seep." She giggled again and disappeared into a second room where Sarah could hear water running. She assumed there was a ritual to bedtime here just as there was in her world. Glancing around the room, Sarah couldn't help but think how very similar the two worlds were. It made her believe even more that a home was built of love and not of wood or clay. It made her long for her youth if her youth, had been more like Sarah One's.

The child reemerged from the room in a pink cotton nightgown smelling of mint. "Tuck me in, pease!" She instructed Sarah. Helpless to the huge blue eyes that looked to her to fulfill their needs, she responded in kind.

"Snug enough," she asked the little girl.

"Just right." Sarah One pointed to her bookshelf. "Story pease!"

"Which one?" There were enough books there to make a library.

"Any one!" There was more giggling.

"Ok," Sarah told her as she pulled down a copy of Snow White. There was an irony in that Sarah thought as she began to read, seated once again in the overstuffed chair. "Once upon a time,…"

Unbeknownst to the Sarahs, Hoggle and Drema were just outside in the hall. Hoggle's arm held his wife, a tear in her eye. "I do love her," Drema whispered, "maybe even more than you said I would." Hoggle smiled as he felt his family grow.

Before Snow White had even bitten the apple, Sarah One was asleep. Sarah Two was feeling drowsy as well. She closed the book and left it on the night stand. She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed in the peaceful easiness that she'd come to value in just a few short hours. Her eyes fought through the dark to focus on this child that bore her name. Had ever a greater compliment been paid.

Without warning the blackness of the room lifted. Grabbing her head, Sarah fell back into the chair and let the vision take over. Assuming a fly on the wall perspective, she saw Hoggle sitting in the chair she sat in now. "Tell me about her again daddy!" his daughter cried.

"Not tonight sweetie, let's read Cinderella instead."

"But there aren't any Sarahs in the Cinder story. I want to hear about Sarahs!" Her tiny bottom lip puffed out.

"I think one of those wicked stepsisters names was Sarah. Oh yeah, now I remember she was the meanest of them all because she never let Cinderella get any sleep and that made her too tired to go to the ball."

Sarah rolled in her bed in hysterics. "You made that up daddy."

"Maybe I did and maybe I didn't, but either way you still have to got to sleep."

"It's not fair!" the wide eyed child shouted.

Hoggle smirked, "No, no it isn't fair, but that's the way it is." He tucked her in and kissed her head, then took his seat in the chair and began to read. His daughter was dreaming before the end of the first page. Tears filled his eyes. Hoggle focused on one Sarah before him and thought of another Sarah he had not seen in a very long time.

Drema came to his side and lay a tender hand on her husband's shoulder. "Dear come to bed. You can't keep staring at her like this. One Sarah will never take the place of another." As she watched the vision play out, she wonder if that was where the child got the idea to call herself Sarah One.

"I wish I had the other Sarah too." Perhaps her child's mind mixed up her father's words to create their nicknames. "You'd love her Drema, like she was another daughter."

"Come to bed."

"I can't. Don't you understand that I can't. Tonight might be the night that she calls for me." Hoggle was adamant.

"She hasn't called on you in years, Hoggle. What makes you think it will be tonight?" Drema was tired. It had been two weeks of nightmares, followed by two weeks of near sleeplessness for her and Sarah sensed it all. It was just about the time Aboveground that things were starting to take off in her career. Her contact with the mystical world was limited. Then Christian had moved in and Sarah had given up on even talking to Hoggle anymore.

"'Cause tonight I want her to."

His wife sat in his lap, "I know. Tonight you want her to call you more than last night. Tomorrow you'll want it more still."

"Tonight's different." When his wife looked at him, her eyes seemed to ask how. "Tonight I prayed she would call me."

He had never been a deeply religious dwarf. He gave his daily thanks and had been married in the presence of the Cleric, but there were no knee marks worn into the floor on his side of the bed. Drema was aware of just what he was saying when he was saying something so simple. "Then trust in your faith. You have asked the Supreme One and in time your answer will come in time, but it's not up to you to set that time." Tears flowed freely over his cheeks as his heart admitted she was right. Drema rose in silence and led her husband to bed.

Quick as it had come on the pictures left her mind and her eyes were back to trying to focus on the child wrapped inside the soft patchwork duvet, only they wouldn't focus, couldn't because they were suddenly as filled with tears as she had seen Hoggle's. Sarah stepped out into the hall and walked to the living room. Her body felt numb. Her face was wet. Drema ran to her and took her hand, "Oh my, are you not well dear?"

"I'm fine thank you," her voice shook.

The sound of her voice had captured Hoggle's attention and he set down the cup of tea in his hand. Almost childlike, Sarah ran to him, collapsing before him on the floor, her head in his lap. Shoulders shook with sobs as she repeated, "I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry."

A bit shocked by her display Hoggle asked, "For what?" as he stroked her hair.

"How many nights? How long did you sit in that room, looking at her, wishing you had us both, trying to make one Sarah into two." The sobs had stopped just long enough for her to utter the words and then returned with an even greater fervor than before.

"Your sight? I shoulda thought of that before I let you in there." Hoggle lifted her chin, "It was worth every night to hear you call my name again. Over the years of watchin' you grow, bein' yer confidant, I grew to love you like you were my own child. I'd give as much for you as I would my own Sarah."

"I was selfish and stupid. I don't deserve your friendship, your love or the hospitality you're family has shown me."

This time it was Drema who ran to her side. "Now listen to me. You were a child and children often make mistakes. Your lesson has been learned. I suggest you learn this lesson as well, here in the Underground all things live off of one another. A piece of each of us comes from another and wherever we go, whatever we touch, we leave behind our essence."

"What does that mean?" Sarah sniffed back the tears and tried to digest what the dwarf woman was saying.

"It means that if you did not give your friendship, love and hospitality then none would be returned to you. You can guarantee that as long as you remain in this world, you will get what you deserve when the Supreme One believes you are ready to receive it." A flick of her wrist and a third cup of tea joined the two already on the serving tray. Drema offered it to Sarah who accepted it readily and drank some of it down. "It is not the forgiveness of my husband that you seek child, it is your own soul which you cannot stop blaming. Think on that as you dream and tomorrow your way will seem all the more obvious."

Hoggle grumbled in his usual way and that small act alone made Sarah feel better, "Ah, what she's tryin' to say is what's said is said."

Finally she understood the very powerful meaning of the hackneyed expression. "If you don't mind, I'd like to get some rest."

"Of course you would darling. Come now," Drema helped her to her feet, "let me show you to your room."

The weary traveler hadn't gone more than two steps before turning and flinging herself into Hoggle's arms. "I love you," she told him. "I always have but made myself feel too foolish to say it." He patted her back a few times and smiled. She knew he felt the same way, only opening his mouth would have opened the floodgates in his eyes as well. She ran back to Drema who folded an arm about her shoulder and let the woman guide her to the bedroom.

With one last gulp, Hoggle emptied his tea cup and stared out the window into the dark night. He could have sworn he heard an owl screeching in the night. "Not as long as I still got my wits in my head and breath in my body Jareth. I'll never let you hurt my child or any mortal who feels the same as my child in my heart," he whispered into the blackness.


	12. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN - LEAVING BEHIND HER ESSENCE**

Exhaustion had put her to sleep quickly and kept her there deeply until the sound of a family gathering around a breakfast table caused Sarah to yawn, stretch and rub at her eyes. Nose first she arrived in the kitchen wearing a cotton night shirt Drema had lent her. "What is that divine smell?" she asked as she entered placing a kiss on Hoggle's head and then on Sarah One's.

"Frog bacon and robin's eggs," the baby grinned.

Sarah Two winced a little but then reconsidered, remembering how much she had enjoyed dinner the night before, perhaps she shouldn't be so provincial. Before taking a seat at the table Sarah leaned over Drema's shoulder and kissed the woman's cheek. Drema smiled.

"Where in the he..." Hoggle began before noticing his daughter's intense eyes on him, "world did we get robin's eggs?"

"Strangest thing, I found a nest of them right outside the back door this morning," his wife told him.

"Strange indeed," Hoggle concurred eyeing Sarah Two in a way that made her edgy.

"What's so strange about finding a bird's nest in the woods?" Sarah asked as she poured some milk into a sippy cup for Sarah One and then into a glass for herself.

No one responded to her query, instead the two adults looked at each other speaking a silent language that the Sarahs were unable to interpret. A night's rest had vanquished more than the stresses of the previous day. It had made Hoggle forget there was more yet to tell the mortal. Drema's eyes narrowed on him forcing a heavy sigh to rush from his lungs. "It's strange because no one's heard a bird in this sector in over five years now."

"Five years," Sarah Two repeated.

"After breakfast, I'll take you to see the full sector. I'll explain things along the way," he told her nodding toward the baby indicating that it was more than he wanted to discuss in front of his child.

She took the cue immediately and relegated herself to slicing bread to toast for their meal. Her stomach was queasy with anticipation and the idea of frog bacon wasn't settling it any. Together she and Drema presented the meal. Again, Hoggle bowed his head and gave his thanks before the family began to eat. Though she passed on the bacon, Sarah Two found that robin's eggs were very tasty, especially when they were on top of a slice of fresh toast smeared with a little of what she hoped was butter.

Aboveground breakfast was never like this. When she sat to eat breakfast at all, it was a bowl of cereal or a cup of tea. Most of the time Sarah would grab one of three varieties of breakfast bars from on top of the fridge on her frenzied way out the door. Underground they sat, they talked, they were thankful for their meal and for the company to share it. At fifteen the Underground had seemed barbaric, but now, Sarah thought just the opposite. Though the thought of staying in the Underground had terrified her once, at this moment she felt like she could stay forever.

Shaken out of her daydream by the repeated sound of her name being called, Sarah dropped her fork to her plate and gasped, "I'm sorry," she said shaking her head, "I was just thinking."

"'Bout what dear?" Drema asked

With a wide grin, Sarah replied, "How happy I am to be here."

Side by side Hoggle and Sarah left the stump he called home and set out to roam the Southeastern sector of the Underground. Once clear of the stump, Sarah returned to her normal size. The transformation gave her quite a start. She had been Hoggle's size for nearly a full day now and it had begun to feel comfortable on her, although she felt more secure being larger when she was outside the protective walls of the dwarf's home. They paused by the side of the stump and Hoggle picked up an axe. "Is that necessary?" Sarah asked him.

"You haven't been in these woods. If the overgrowth doesn't get you, then something hidin' in it might!" He was half joking. There wasn't anything terribly dangerous lurking in the forest, but the overgrowth was wild and often required chopping your way through. Just another side effect of Jareth's failure to properly look over his lands. Sarah's eyes grew dark with worry. Hoggle laughed in an effort to try and ease her, then edged her forward onto a narrow path.

Birds could be heard above them, more than one variety by the sounds they made. Sarah looked high into the canopy at a dozen or more winged wonders flapping then gliding, landing then flying again. She tapped the dwarf at her side on his shoulder. When she had his attention she pointed up. He too, took notice of what was happening. His feet ceased any forward movement. Sarah looked at him, her arms crossed before her chest, "What was it you needed to tell me?"

"There's no easy way to explain this Sarah. I already told you that Jareth's depression has kept him from carin' for the Underground in the manner he had before. Drema already told you that fey are connected to their surroundin's." Part of him hoped she'd put the whole thing together herself and spare him the agony of choking over his own words. "Jareth is connected to the Underground. He is its king." Even though she found the explanation elementary, Sarah listened intently. Hoggle paced and fumbled with his hands as he went on. "If his soul is happy the Underground thrives. Jareth's soul has rarely been truly happy and so the Underground has always been a fairly decent kingdom, except for the damn fairies and chickens that run all over the place. There were lands that seemed to absorb more of Jareth's anger, but they were normally in and immediately around the Labyrinth, as if the king focused his negative energy there by command. Otherwise the outer sectors were well kept and pretty luxurious by Underground standards."

"The four sectors each have a Representative. His powers are limited, as is his magic and while part of each Representative is as connected to their respective sector as Jareth is to his kingdom, it's not enough to override the king's doldrums. Normally, it's just enough to add icin' to the cake and make what is a beautiful land even more so. Each sector is geographically different and therefore the king's mood has effected each sector as diversely. Here we've had terrible overgrowth, birds and flowers have practically disappeared. In other sectors, heat spells or frosts have their way with the land. Where water once flowed in quantities that would embarrass those Aboveground, there was drought and the sun shines only at the king's command."

Sarah looked around. The sun was shining brightly today, only a few clouds dared to splotch the otherwise flawless blue sky. Singing birds were undeniable as they harmonized in the tree tops. "Doesn't seem all that desolate to me," she said raising one eyebrow to display her confusion.

Hoggle began walking deeper into the wood, the mortal following him closely, not wishing to be alone in a strange land. He was jabbering on about how today was so much different from the way things normally were and Sarah's attention strayed. Off to the right of their path was a beautiful meadow. It stretched on as far as she could see and seemed to burst with colorful buds the shades of which no word delicate enough had been invented to describe. "I'll be bogged!" Hoggle cried when he noticed what had stolen her ear by catching her eye.

"I thought you said there weren't any flo…"

"There weren't Sarah. None of this was here yesterday mornin'."

Not meaning to, she contradicted him. "Flowers don't bloom like that over night!" Remembering where she was and that she was far less familiar with this world than her companion, Sarah uncomfortably cleared her throat and said, "What do you suppose made them decide to bloom now?"

"I don't think they had much to say about it," he told her with a smile.

Taking it for a joke, Sarah laughed. Then kneeling, she pulled a few of the buds closest to her, "We'll take these back for Drema."

Hoggle nodded. That was a fine idea. It had been a long time since he had brought her flowers home from one of his walks. On they went, deeper into the wood. The dwarf had not yet encountered any overgrowth that would require him to swing his ax which was odd. Just the other day he had avoided this same path because it looked nearly impenetrable. For a moment he lost himself in trying to decide if he had really seen what he had thought he saw. A giant butterfly came toward him and landed on the end of his nose making him grumble. As he went to swat it, Sarah reached down lifting it out of harm's way. "Oh Hoggle don't," she chastised. "You're so beautiful," Sarah told the butterfly which had perched on her finger. Black trimmed wings held in spots of orange and red while two tiny black eyes fluttered at their captor. Feelers bent to run along Sarah's hand forcing her to giggle. The butterfly smiled stretching out a wing to run along Sarah's chin. Then as quickly as it had come, the winged insect departed making erratic circles in the atmosphere.

"No wonder you live here," she told the dwarf. Extending her arms and gazing skyward Sarah made huge circles with her whole body. She was coming alive from the inside out. She could feel it. A dynamic warmth filled her making her feel satisfied for the first time in ages. Everything was new and wondrous even though she had seen most of these things before in the Aboveground, it was bigger, brighter, bolder than she recalled.

"It's happenin'," Hoggle said, perhaps a bit more loudly than he intended.

"What's happening?"

"You suddenly feel alive don't you? Not just energized, but invincible, immortal?" Sarah sat on the ground before him watching him dole out the words as if they were difficult to say, as if by saying them he was condemning someone.

"I suppose I do, but it's a good feeling," Sarah reassured. "In fact, I was just thinking how I haven't been this happy in far too long." He stayed silent, but focused on her with more concentration than she cared for. "What is it Hoggle? Is it my mortal magic? If I stay too long it'll disappear, right? You're worried that I'll be upset if I lose it?" His head wagged side to side. "Then what is it?" Sarah demanded.

"It's you."

"Me? What about me?"

"Everythin'. Jareth gave you fey magic. He gave you a part of his soul. He made you part of the Underground." Hoggle paused between each statement gauging Sarah's reactions and taking a breath to help him go on. "Now that you're here, the land wants to please you, for when you are pleased, the land will thrive. You're bringin' life back to the Underground Sarah."

"I don't understand," Sarah whispered suddenly very aware of herself. Noticing that the warmth she felt was less like the sun on her skin and more like a fire from inside. She did feel invincible. She did feel immortal. "Why me? If the Representatives weren't powerful enough, why me?"

"Their souls are their own. Yours is part of Jareth. Part of the king, the only one with enough power to regenerate the lands. It's a gift Sarah. The inhabitants of these lands will adore you for sharin' it with them." His words were happy, but his tone sad.

"But?"

"But as Jareth's emotions are focused on the castle and Labyrinth and get weaker in the outstretches of the kingdom, yours are strong here and will work their way toward the Labyrinth and eventually the castle. It will be only a matter of time before Jareth becomes aware that the Underground has begun to heal. The king is not a stupid fey and it will occur to him quickly just why that is. When it does, he will seek you out and most likely will not be pleased that you have tampered with his kingdom."

"Tampered? I haven't done anything. I don't even know spells. How can he fault me for things I haven't even done?" No sooner had she heard what she said it dawned on her that he had faulted her before for far less.

Hoggle took her hand. "Your magic is stronger than a spell. Your magic comes from the heart. It is the most powerful of all magics."

From some brush behind them Tiberon came charging forth, a cluster of pixies surrounding him. He waved them off. "Does my keen fey hearing deceive me or have I found the mortal I wish to thank?"

Agitated Hoggle stood up and shook a finger at the Representative. "You ought not listen in on other people when they're havin' a private conversation."

"There, there little one," he told the dwarf. Hoggle hated being spoken to like he were some young sprite or gnome. "I mean the mortal no harm. As you know, that which displeases the king brings me much pleasure indeed. And besides, look about you! The southeast is in its glory. It has been a century since my sector was this beautiful and alive. Haven't you heard the birds? Every mythical in this wood is buzzing with news of the miraculous improvement. I expect by afternoon we'll be overrun with mythicals from other sectors who are tired of their own deplorable conditions."

Tiberon closed in on Sarah resting his hands on her hips, "And you," he purred. She didn't like the way he did that. He dressed like Jareth, but he was no Goblin King. He was thicker and meatier making him seem more threatening. Those eyes of his were beautiful aesthetically, but they were cold. She felt him look through her and diverted her eyes. "I have you to thank for all of it!" His thick arms forced her off the ground and swung her in the air overhead. Sarah's heart pounded against her chest as if it wanted free of her rib cage as much as she wanted free of Tiberon's grasp. When once more her feet touched the ground, he had moved them to the edge of the path putting a bit of distance between them and the dwarf, who remained on the far side of the trail where he'd stopped when the fey frightened them with his hasty approach. Without warning, Tiberon brought his mouth frightfully close to Sarah's own. A smile wove across his lips just before he lowered his head to kiss her, hard. Clenching her jaws and binding her lips together she tried to show him how unwelcome his advances were. However, Tiberon was not quick to admit defeat. After several seconds of attempting to elicit a more appreciative response he backed away and bowed before her. "I had not believed in the legend, Lady Sarah of the Aboveground, but today you have made me eat my words." He took her hand and kissed the back of it, flicking his tongue between his lips like a snake. "And my, but I do so love the taste of them."

A twirling ax took root in the ground inches from Tiberon's bent knee on his right side causing Sarah to stumble back, just off the path, against a tree trunk. "Jareth will have your head if you have one more go at his mortal," Hoggle growled.

The Representative leaned into him, "And as I said, that which displeases the king brings me much pleasure." Bored with this confrontation, Tiberon stood, bowed low and took his leave.

"Hoggle," Sarah called from the other side of the path.

At her call he ran to her, "Are you alright?"

"No! No I am not alright!" She was pacing. "What do you mean throwing an axe at me like that?"

"I can control my own weapon. I never got nowheres near you."

"Well from where I stood it didn't feel that way." Sarah was obviously shaken by the whole ordeal.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you, but Tiberon was way out of line," the dwarf's hands were on his hips and his foot stomped into the dirt.

"Yes, he was, but in my world, we don't just go throwing axes at every jerk who gets out of line. He'll probably run straight to Jareth and tell him I'm here." Sarah trembled at the thought. She was not ready to face the Goblin King, not yet.

"He'll do no such thing. Tiberon is an ass but he is not a fool. It would serve no purpose to reveal you to the king unless he had you for his own."

Though crass, his meaning was clear. Sarah shook again. "Well that ain't gonna happen."

"Just to be sure," Hoggle paused and then with all his might shouted, "Oh that's rich! Atofina and the Representative of the Northeast sector. I wouldn't have believed it if it hadn't been whispered into my own ear." He accompanied his noise with a few knee slaps and exaggerated gestures.

As if summoned, the white rabbit appeared before the dwarf. "Knew you couldn't resist a good rumor." Hoggle snorted at him.

The Easter Bunny raised a shoulder to him. "Kill joy," he spat.

"Listen, I've got more important business with you than droppin's from the grapevine." Long ears perked attentive to what was being said, "Tiberon means to court, if you can call it that, the mortal. I want you to go back to the Southwest and tell Gandor his intentions. Gandor will never allow it to happen. He has always believed that Sarah's return would be good for Jareth and while I don't know yet whether or not I agree, I know that he is fey enough to keep Tiberon in line and honest enough to let her," Hoggle indicated Sarah, "choose her own time to reveal herself."

"So it is you," the rabbit addressed Sarah. "You are the Legend."

"Please just call me Sarah."

He hopped to her and stared up her long body to a face that seemed miles away. One of his ears twitched, beckoning her closer. She obliged. "My but you are beautiful," he said. "I can see how it is that you weakened the king's heart, although mine seems to beat stronger as I stand before you. I am the Easter Bunny, Sarah. Your wishes are my commands. I shall get Gandor and he will make certain that Tiberon troubles you as little as possible from this point forward."

"Thank you," Sarah smiled down at the soft white creature.

"The pleasure to serve you has been mine." With this he was gone. No doubt transporting himself to Gandor's home in order to get started on his mission.

It was growing late in the morning and Hoggle would be expected to make an appearance at the Labyrinth gates. Once more grabbing her hand, Hoggle lead her back to his home, a great understanding between them made the silence more comfortable.

Arulan came into the King's chamber with his breakfast on a wooden serving tray. He sat up in bed when he heard her enter and smoothed his hair from his face. The elf seemed especially cheerful this morning and Jareth despised it. "Good morning," she sang. This morning, as everyone before it, Arulan had risen before the sun and gone for a run through the forest of the Southeast sector. The air was sweet there, especially so today, she had thought.

"Is it?" Jareth yawned.

"You mustn't allow yourself to continue on this way. You've barely been out of that bed these last few days. The goblins are wrecking havoc on the city and the castle." She set the tray across his lap.

"What is this?" the king asked, plucking a daisy from a vase on the tray with just his thumb and forefinger, glad his gloves were on so he didn't have to come in contact with the thing.

"It's a daisy your highness. I found it on my run this morning." Apparently it had not pleased him as much as she thought it would.

"Eew," he moaned, "well take it outside and kill it." He shook it at her until she came to take it from his grip. "And Arulan, if there are more of these…things, kill them too. Have Hoople squirt them with that contraption of his."

"The atomizer?" Arulan asked. Hoggle's atomizer was filled with a powerful poison that was used for killing a more troubling fairy breed. Covering a plant with such a chemical would have quite a detrimental effect on the ecology.

"Yes," the king smiled, "the atomizer." It was the first he had smiled since his return and his servant was less than pleased by the topic that brought it about. Arulan left the king.

Jareth finished his breakfast and drank his tea. Planing to kill the daisies had really inspired him. He rose from his bed, bathed and dressed. While he went about doing up his hair he caught himself hoping some foolish mortal would wish away a child today. He was up for a good challenge. Perhaps it would be just the catalyst he would need to pull himself out of the mood the Triumvirate had put him in. The Triumvirate, "Damn!" Jareth raged as he realized that a mortal would be no fun if he couldn't control it. "Ah, but the Labyrinth is still mine to do with as I see fit," a spark returning to his eyes. "If I can convince them to come and play my little game, we'll play by my rules!" Laughter filled the room halting on a dime when the king caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. He sneered, "Oh Jareth, you do have a lovely smile."

Dressed in his finest, the king descended the stairs to the throne room. A few dozen goblins were milling about, tapping his mead and aggravating the chickens. High in the air, a riding crop was raised and with all the authority of a god, it came smacking down on the arm of the king's throne. "Enough!" he shouted. Silence lay heavy in the room. Jareth smiled again, enjoying any little thing that made his body surge with feelings of power or control. All eyes turned to their king. He was strutting around examining each goblin appreciative of the ones who dared to return his look. Kicking or tossing the others out of his way. "Cowards," he muttered.

By the time he'd finished making his serpentine through the motley crew assembled in the room only 17 remained. He snatched up the smallest one and tossed him out the window. "Today I only like even numbers," he proclaimed. "Divide yourselves into four groups," Jareth instructed. The goblins began shuffling around, bumping into one another, arguing, fighting. The King snapped the crop against his gloved hand before roughly shoving them left and right forming three groups of four before him. Then he announced to the remaining four who were scattered about the room, "Everyone not already in a group, stand here." Eight feet could be heard dashing to the spot the riding crop pointed to. "Very nice," Jareth told them. "Now then, I have a job for you."

"We must be going to empty an orphanage," one goblin said.

"A school yard," offered a second.

"This does not involve children," Jareth told them. "This is far more important." A hush fell over the creatures in his presence as their eyes grew wide in anticipation. "The Triumvirate has had far too much to say about the goings on in the Underground," the king began, "and I wish to take back more control over my kingdom." He was pacing back and forth in front of them as he spoke, their heads turning and following him as he did so. "Each group of you will be assigned to spy in one of the four sectors that surround us. I want to know every detail of their miserable existence. The Representatives, I want to know what their doing and see if you can get some idea of what they think of their king. By the time I have my way with this place, they'll all be on their knees!" The teams of goblins before him knelt. "Get up you idiots!" Jareth shouted. He assigned them their sectors and sent them on their way, then slung himself across his throne, "On their knees," he muttered, "begging for mercy."

It was nearly dinner when Hoggle and Sarah Two returned home. "Daddy," Sarah One cried flinging herself into his arms. Drema turned in time to see him swing her through the air. He hadn't felt this young in years. Drema looked so contented, as if a great worry had some how been lifted from her shoulders. She so loved having the mortal Sarah in her home. It was a welcome change to have someone able to lift a finger and pitch in. Sarah One was so busy creating messes, Drema could never get her to clean one up. Hoggle usually got home so late, he was useless, but now that Sarah had arrived in the Underground, his wife noticed him knocking off earlier and staying in after dinner.

Drying her hands on her apron, Drema went to greet her husband. Sarah took them all in, the three dwarves that stood together in as close to a live Norman Rockwell painting as anything she'd ever seen, wishing she had a camera. A pocket sized model appeared in her hand. It had been one of the things she shoved into the series of small pockets on her bag last minute. Quickly she snapped a shot of her extended family and shoved the thing in her pocket making a mental note to wish more carefully in the future.

The oven timer and front door competed for attention as dinner announced it's completion and an uninvited guest announced their arrival. Hoggle told Drema to hide Sarah. "Just a minute….I'm comin'…I'm comin'," he called out until he saw his wife shove the mortal in the cleaning cupboard just outside of the kitchen, then he opened the door. "What do you want?" he snapped before looking to see who it was.

"Hoggle my friend, is that anyway to speak to a fey who has come to do you a favor?" Gandor smiled down at the dwarf. This Representative was nothing like Tiberon. He was older and more gentle looking. He had a long beard and a thick mustache all made of pure white hair that appeared as though his sector's snow traveled with him always. He was heavier than Tiberon, but in a way that seemed more friendly than slobbish.

"I'm terribly sorry," Hoggle bowed.

"No harm." Gandor waived a hand and shrunk himself, then invited himself in.

Sarah One scuttled up the length of him and tugged on his beard, "Guess what?" she chattered happily.

"What?" he asked rubbing his chin.

"I gots another Sarah."

"You do?" he feigned ignorance.

"I show you," she whispered her eyes growing large like saucers. Gandor set her on the ground and she drug him by the hem of his robe over to the cupboard. "Open it."

Slowly the Representative did as she commanded. Inside Sarah Two was nestled between two mops. "You must be the famed Lady Sarah of the Aboveground."

"One in the same," she said smiling nervously at the stranger.

"Two," little Sarah corrected.

Sarah came forward out of the cupboard. "It is a pleasure to meet you Gandor." She thought he looked very grandfatherly and she appreciated that, but curtsied nonetheless out of respect. "I hope we haven't inconvenienced you by asking for your help."

"Not at all. I'm happy to help keep Tiberon at bay. I've said for years that Jareth would be far better off with you by his side." Gandor smiled at her and touched her arm. By his side? Had Sarah heard him correctly. No matter. He was going to take care of Tiberon. Maybe afterward she would explain that there would be no 'by his side'. "There is one thing I would ask, in exchange for my help."

"What's that?" Hoggle asked protectively coming between the two of them.

"I wonder if Sarah would join me for dinner in my kingdom. It's blasted cold over there you know and it's supposed to be the sunny season. I was hoping a visit from the legend might spruce things up a bit." He looked almost embarrassed to ask, but you could tell that he was relying on the generosity she was rumored to have.

"We'd be delighted," Hoggle replied. "Of course I'd have to go as her chaperone."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Gandor agreed. "Shall we?" He extended his elbow to Sarah and his hand to Hoggle. "Lady Drema, would you care to join us?"

"No thank you," she declined, "Just be sure and have them home at a reasonable hour."

"As you wish," Gandor promised and they were gone.

Sarah's eyes opened, but her chin was still tucked to her chest. She didn't think she'd ever get used to transporting. She shrieked as she looked at the floor, clear as water, it convinced her she was about to go under. "Don't worry," Gandor told her. "I live in an ice castle, the floor always looks this way. Come with me, I'll show you to the dining room." His castle was lovely, something straight out of a fairytale. Even the furniture carved from ice. Yet not a puddle on the floor or a piece of melted furniture. "It's never supposed to really get cold Underground. And yet, we do keep a sector that resembles your mortal winters. It's about 180 golas here in the sunny season and 120 golas in the cloudy season."

"Golas are like degrees Sarah. One degree is about three golas," Hoggle explained. "Our sunny season is yer spring and summer, cloudy season, yer fall and winter." Hoggle translated.

"I take for granted that you know our ways well Sarah, I apologize for not better explaining myself to you. As I said, it is typically quite comfortable here, but this season it's freezing. Some of my creatures are dying off of dehydration because all the water sources are freezing up." He guided Sarah on a tour of the castle before the trio gathered in the dining hall for dinner. Gandor pulled a braided cord which rung a lovely brass bell. Three servants came dashing into the hall and set places. As they dashed out three more dashed in carrying covered silver trays. Once the guests were seated, the domed lids were removed. There were parsleyed potatoes, carrots, some sort of squash and on the largest tray a roast rack of lamb. Sarah's mouth began to water. "Sit my friends, tonight my rewards are your rewards."

Sarah looked about in wide eyed wonder. An ice castle as detailed as any mortal doll house she had ever seen. An ice dining table and chairs, yet when she took her seat, there was no moisture, no chill. It was remarkable, as if the entire place had been cut into glass.

"Rewards?" Hoggle asked, breaking Sarah's concentration.

"Oh my yes, it was all Tiberon could do when I agreed not to ice over his forest for what he tried with the mortal today." Gandor took great pride in just how intimidating his aged appearance allowed him to be at times.

"You didn't?" Sarah asked.

"And yet I did," he chuckled as he admitted to it. "Oh, you should have seen him. I burst in through his front door and went on about how my white rabbit had seen it all. He never even questioned me. Then I told him that if he did anything more to alarm the mortal, I would cast a frost over all she had done for his lands. Not to mention rat him out to the king who would destroy whatever remained, including him." Gandor began filling his plate and gestured to his friends to do the same. "I even leaned over him and the closer I got the further he bent away. Could have turned him into a pretzel if I would have felt like it." His laughter was contagious. Soon all three of them were enjoying a good laugh at Tiberon's expense. "And you Sarah, how are you enjoying the Underground?"

"Very well thank you," she said swallowing a mouthful of potato.

"Word of what you were able to do for the Southeast spread quickly, but I don't want you to worry. Only the most trusted of us know it is you at the source of the Underground's healing, my sword and staff to protect you otherwise." He cut another slice of lamb for himself. "Perhaps after dinner we could visit the pond."

"Certainly," Sarah nodded with great interest. She always liked water, just sitting beside it watching the sky reflecting in the smooth calm surface. She thought of park where she had practiced her play as she continued to feed herself, almost mechanically while lost in her reverie. "If you don't mind my saying this is delicious."

"Thank you, I'll pass that along to the chefs." Gandor clapped his hands twice and six stout penguins came running out of the kitchen and clamored around the girl.

"Oh my," Sarah cried excitedly, "they're adorable. Thank you all for the delicious meal."

"You're welcome milady," the first said.

"She likes it," piped up another.

"Never mind that, she thinks we're adorable," said a third as he straightened his tie.

"You never mind, look at how beautiful she is." Sarah blushed.

"Off with you scamps," Gandor waved them back to their posts. "They don't see many pretty women I'm ashamed to say. You'll have to forgive them."

"Nonsense," Sarah smiled. "What's to forgive about being told you're beautiful? I should like to keep one of them by my side for bad hair days." Hoggle and Gandor looked at each other and burst into laughter.

"Well I hate to be the heavy, but we need to figure out what we're going to do about Sarah," Hoggle reminded them.

"What about her?" Gandor asked.

"We've got to figure out a way to get her home before Jareth realizes that she's here."

The Representative shook his head, "It can't be done." He said it so nonchalantly as he was washing down his supper with his wine.

"But there must be some way," Sarah pleaded.

"I wish there were, but do you have the magic to produce crystals?" Sarah shook her head. "Are you able to transport on your own?" She indicated no once more. "Then I'm afraid milady, you are trapped in the Underground."

"Does no one have the magic to send her home but Jareth?" Hoggle begged.

"The Triumvirate."

"Then we shall go to them," Sarah said with a bit of renewed confidence until she noticed Hoggle's hanging head. "What's wrong?"

"Only Jareth can present to the Triumvirate," Hoggle told her.

"Then it's decided," she tried to sound brave, but her voice faltered and betrayed her. "Tomorrow at sunrise I will leave with you for the Labyrinth gates Hoggle, and I shall find Jareth and ask him to send me home himself."

"He'll just as soon kill you as look at you," Hoggle said. "I won't let you do it."

"I don't see where you have any choice. I must face him sooner or later." Sarah finished her goblet, "Might as well just rip the band aid off right?"

Gandor looked queerly at her, "You mortals have very strange expressions." Another mortal expression came to her mind, one about a pot and a kettle. "I think the king would have more sense than that. Not to mention, with his powers over mortals usurped, how harmful can he be? Enough seriousness," the Representative rose, "Let us go to the pond."

Outside it had gotten a bit brighter even though it was coming up on evening. "I think it's a few golas warmer, don't you?" Hoggle asked.

"Indeed I do," Gandor concurred as he removed his outermost robe. "Come follow me."

The trio walked a ways from the castle. Sarah could see elves busily scampering about outside of what she could have sworn was a factory. "What is that?"

"Yeah, the old man gets pretty busy this time of year. Don't know why he gets the top seat. After all he just checks the bloody list and makes the deliveries. It's the poor elves that work their fingers to the bone." Sarah was shocked by both his words and the tone in which they had been said.

"You don't mean to tell me that's Santa's workshop," Sarah said in disbelief. Instantly she was four again. The magic of the mysterious man in the plush, red suit, chauffeured by eight flying reindeer to deliver toys to all good children, this was surreal. It almost seemed she had found herself strolling through her childhood fantasies.

Gandor looked at her surprised, "What, don't you believe that if a mortal can be a Legend Underground, an immortal can be a legend Aboveground? Really Sarah, I always thought of you as a believer?"

"From this day forward, I shall be," she muttered through slack jaws.

There were more penguins and a few minor age elves skating on the pond when they arrived. "How can they do that when it's so warm out here?"

"Magic," Hoggle told Sarah. "Gandor's lands are primarily ice, but the climate is suitable so that any of the Underground's creatures could easily survive here if they were to visit. Likewise, the water supply should never completely freeze so that the animals have a place to drink constantly.

Sarah moved slowly toward the pond and knelt at the water's edge. The ice was so clear it was like a mirror. Her hand moved to touch her reflection. The ice felt cool to her touch, but it did not chill her as it should have. She slipped her shoes off and placed her feet on the slick surface. Before long she was skating around on the ice dancing to music that played only in her head. The elves and penguins all stopped to watch her. Three years of lessons came rushing back to her as she arched her back, extended her arms and spun in tight circles . Spoiling her fun, the ice began to crack beneath her feet and she took her leave of the pond as quickly as possible.

Gandor transported to her side reaching for her to offer the frightened child comfort, "Would you have a look at that?"

Half the pond remained frozen over and the other half was completely melted. Several species were coming from hills and valleys all around to drink the fresh flowing water. Fish jumped up to break the surface of the pond. "Just from my skating around?" the woman asked him. Such a concept quickly escaped her range of rational thought.

"Indeed, and look there," he pointed to some near by plants where frost was dripping off and forming puddles in the snow. "I bet by morning those greens are thawed enough for these little guys to fill their bellies as well as bladders, all thanks to you." He tapped the end of her nose with his finger. "I can never repay you, but to tell you, should you ever need me..."

"I'll call," Sarah finished his sentence. She knew the drill. It filled her with a kind of pride. In her heart something changed. Her connection with the Underground deepened, delving beyond being in a wondrous place she was happy in to become an extension of her spirit, as tangible as her own arm. She needed this place as much as it needed her. Sarah felt like she was where she belonged.

They were transported back home shortly thereafter. Hoggle told Drema what Gandor had done to Tiberon while Sarah Two told Sarah One about the talking penguins and the way she made the ice melt. Then they made a fire and had a cup of tea while they played checkers until Sarah One started to yawn. "Let me," Sarah said as she stood to take the child to her room. It was important to her since she didn't know if she would see her namesake again. The baby was tucked into bed and Sarah had chosen Where the Wild Things Are as this evening's story. It had been one of her favorites as a child. She sat on the edge of the child's bed not wishing to see anything else unpleasant.

"You're gonna go, ain't ya," Sarah One said her sleepy eyes barely open.

"Eventually I must," she told the tiny girl.

Refusing to allow her to leave, she grabbed Sarah Two around her neck and held to her for dear life. "Don't go Sarah Two. I be good if you stay. I promise. I even gift you my bed." Tears poured over the child's face and Sarah felt her heart breaking.

"Sarah, sweetie, haven't you ever said goodbye to anyone before." She shook her head, temporarily distracted enough to stop crying. "Who?"

"Nanaw and Pappy," Sarah assumed they were grandparents, probably Drema's parents since Hoggle never mentioned his.

"And what happened after they left," she only hoped there hadn't been any accidents.

"I cwied for three days," Sarah One started to bawl for the second time.

Sarah Two had not thought about that possibility. She moved to wipe away her tiny tears, "But they came back didn't hey."

"Not for a reary wong time!" She stomped her foot and crossed her arms. Oh she was Hoggle's child alright! "Fo'ever!"

"Well, we've got forever," Sarah Two lied. Sarah One had forever, Sarah Two wasn't even sure about tomorrow. "And I promise you that I will always keep you with me in my heart." She pinched the baby dwarf's nose between her middle and fore fingers, "And in my pocket." Quickly Sarah shoved the empty fist into the pocket of the house dress she'd borrowed from Drema.

Sarah One laughed in that innocent, untainted way that only a child can as she fell back on her bed. Sarah Two read her the story and then leaned in to kiss her goodbye and goodnight. "I love you," she whispered by the child's ear and then jerked her head away before the tears could wake the little girl by smacking against her skin.

She was almost out the door when she heard the tiny sound fight it's way out from under the duvet, "I love you too." Well how do you like that, she could pronounce her l's after all.

In the living room Drema wiped at her eyes with a hanky, "Oh dear, Hoggle told me what you want to do and I won't allow it. I just won't. Wait another day, another week."

'Saying goodbye to adults was supposed to be easier,' Sarah thought. "Drema, I appreciate your concern, but I've made up my mind. I can't just stay here and wait for Jareth to find me. He'll find you with me and God only knows what he'll do if he thinks Hoggle has betrayed him. I won't put Sarah One through that. I won't put any of you through that. Tomorrow at sunrise I will leave for the Labyrinth."

"But we could,..."

Hoggle moved to quiet his wife. "She's right Drema. If Jareth found her here I don't doubt that he would be furious. It's best we let her go, at least inside the Labyrinth I can still sorta keep an eye on her. Ludo will be there, Sir Didymus, Ambrosius, why she's even won old Gandor over and that damned rabbit." Hoggle smiled at Sarah. "She's powerful in a way Jareth could never be and I think she's gonna be alright." He believed what he said.

"Now let's not ruin our night. I'll put on another pot for tea and join you by the fire in a minute." Sarah went to the kitchen where her tears could flow freely. 'Get hold of yourself,' she thought. 'You can't let them see you like this.' Suddenly she felt a laugh rolling up her throat and into her closed mouth. Feigning a cough, Sarah managed to stifle the laughter. She came here feeling like she was finally free, no more roles, no more acting, but she would never be truly free of the stage. Once the water boiled, she'd pour tea and walk, head high, into an audience that would accept nothing less than happiness from her, not without questioning her. But that was only Act One. Tomorrow she would have to act brave, braver than anyone or anything had forced her to act before. Tomorrow she was going back to the Labyrinth.


	13. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE - THROUGH THE LABYRINTH GATES**

Sunrise broke over the small stump in the forest. Everyone inside, shy the youngest, was already well since up and about anticipating its arrival. Breakfast was had, the dishes cleaned. Sarah's bag was packed as was Hoggle's lunch. When the glowing star completely tore free of the horizon, the mortal looked at her friends, kissed them both, thanked them for their kindness and steeled herself for her next step. Hoggle kissed his wife and joined Sarah at the door.

"Don't go," the voice had been weak, barely audible in fact and both of them turned to face Drema with the same solemn look of vulnerability. They didn't want to go, but they both knew it was best, worse yet, inevitable. "Please don't go," she said again her eyes wet and unable to return their stares.

"I must," Sarah admitted though she felt a certain amount of doubt inside, in that part of her that still believed in happy endings, utopia, the good in people. That part of her wanted to stay here where she could be mothered and fathered as she never had, where she could love a little girl like she never thought possible. Embracing the woman once more, "You will never know what you have meant to me," she wanted to tell her more about how she would never forget her, how she had grown to love them all so much, but tears choked the words to silence. She turned away quickly unable to stop the tears from falling and walked with great purpose to the door. If she didn't leave now she never would.

Outside the house she returned to normal size. Wearing her jeans and a peasant top, Sarah's heart broke. She would have sworn on a stack of bibles that she had actually heard the crack. It sounded just like a door slamming. Hoggle came to her side, compassionately taking her hand, "You stop yer cryin'. You'll be back, back to read Sarah to sleep, back to help Drema cook." He thrust his pointer finger into his chest, "I'll see to it. We got each other through that maze once before and we can do it again." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief handing it to Sarah.

Her skin welcomed the cloth that wiped the water away. When she breathed in to sigh, Sarah could smell the scent of the stump on the handkerchief. It was like any other home she'd ever entered in her life. As soon as you walked through the door there was some scent, a candle, a food, a perfume that you would forever identify with the person or family inside. Sarah finished cleaning her face and stuffed the cloth in her pocket. "Ready?" Hoggle asked raising a hand to transport them.

"I think I'd rather walk," she told him.

Understanding her hesitation they headed down the path toward the Labyrinth's gates. Hoggle rattled off a list of reminders: Don't step in the bog of stench. If you find yourself in an oubliette look around for hidden doors. Watch out for nippers. Don't give the wiseman anymore jewelry. She had almost forgotten the wiseman. His words had seemed like rubbish then. "Young woman, the way forward is also the way back," he told her. But now, those words haunted her, echoing in her head like a warning, stimulating the part of her brain that believed in destiny. Her body was recalling all the frustration, all the determination of her last journey. There was fear to some extent, but it took more to frighten her now, much more. Confidently she took her first step onto what had been red sand just days ago. Now there stood tall grasses around the water features, the dead trees were alive with foliage and grass paved the way to the stone walls.

"It wouldn't have been long until he found you," Hoggle told her, "not if your magic has already reached to here."

Sarah only nodded still taking it all in. "No, I guess it wouldn't have," she muttered just then realizing he was talking about Jareth. There was one last sensation for her body to recall and it tingled at the idea of seeing him again. How on earth could anyone desire and dread the same set of eyes, the same pair of hands, the same coupling of lips? Then again, Sarah was no longer on earth.

"Sarah!" Hoggle called interrupting her thoughts. "Sarah!"

"What is it, Hoggle?"

"Be careful. Don't take anything for granted and for pity's sake don't fall into these daydreams you've become so prone to." His toe ground into the grass beneath his feat, his actions speaking more than his words. "And if you need me..."

Soft lips met his cheek and green eyes looked warmly into his, "I'll call."

The gate to the Labyrinth was still there, still the same enormous wooden structure Sarah remembered from her childhood. Grasping the handle she pulled back one side, and peered in. Same rocky dirt floors, a bit more debris than she remembered, same grey stone walls, same endless hallway in either direction. "Gotta start somewhere," she sighed and let the handle go. Sarah faced right and headed down the hall in hopes of finding another old friend along the way. A great noise came from back where she had entered and Sarah assumed it was the gate swinging closed, but maybe it was Hoggle's heart breaking as he realized that what one promises to a friend and what one is capable of doing for a friend are not always one in the same.

Yards of brick passed in her peripheral vision as she traversed the path. Some places the brick seemed sunken in, other it was missing altogether. Hoggle had spoken true when he told her the damage was only worse the closer it got to Jareth. The Goblin City must have been in ruins by now. Up ahead she could see where a section of wall had a huge chunk gone missing entirely. She approached it careful, not knowing who or what would be on the other side. It was too high to stick her head through, but low enough that she could get her arm through up to the elbow. Carefully she grabbed the bottom of the opening and started to apply pressure testing to see whether or not she would be able to pull herself up for a look around. Steadily she increased the weight she expected the wall to bear until she found herself lying on her back a collection of stone and brick scattered on and about her.

"Oh," she moaned aching from the fall. "Guess it's only my pride I've damaged." Sarah stood and began brushing herself off.

"'Ere now, what's the meaning of tearin' down the wall I spent all morning rebuildin'?" The voice had no face.

"Excuse me," Sarah peaked her head through the now door sized hole and looked around.

"You the one did that?" A trough pointed at the hole. The tool was in the hand of a goblin, who strange as it was to see, donned paint splashed overalls and a cap. When the mortal didn't answer he continued, "No matter. You're here and you're gettin' blamed. Why I oughtta call out the king's guards, but they're all away on a mission for his highness now."

"A mission?"

"Yeah, some best of the worst, spy on the Representatives, say no more kinda thing," he gave her a nod.

Sarah liked the way he talked with a heavy English accent that dropped letters out of words at a moment's notice with no rhyme or reason. She liked his mannerisms, how animated he was as he spoke to her and the gentle easy way of his words, but she couldn't help thinking that Jareth's little mission had already exposed her and she was doomed. "What's your name?"

"Mason," he said returning to his work, gathering up all the stone she'd pulled in on herself.

"I'm Sarah."

"Well Sarah, right pleased to meet you." He extended his hand which Sarah gladly shook before she bent down to help gather the rubble. "What you think you're doing? Trying to get me axed? If his majesty saw you doin' at he'd have me head. He was very specific when he told me Mason, you go and fix me Labyrinth stone by stone if necessary and don't botch it up, or else!"

"Or else? What's specific about or else?"

"Noth-thing," he stressed plucking the stone from her arms, "but that's enough for me."

She laughed at him and kept right on helping. "Look, you weren't told no one could help you?"

"Well no, but it ain't right asking a young woman, such as you are, to ruin her hands in manual labor, such as this is."

"Don't be ridiculous. I made this mess and I should help repair it. I want to help."

"Suppose it wouldn't hurt. Might actually save me aching back if you were to hand me the bits so I could fit them in."

Four hours they worked on the wall the wall together. Sarah told Mason she was a friend of Hoggle's. Of course they knew one another from working together in the Labyrinth and he told Sarah of a particular time when he had caught Hoggle sleeping on the job and snuck up on him, mocking Jareth's voice and scaring him silly. "Like this," he said and it was Jareth's voice that escaped his mouth when he spoke again, "Sleeping on the job again, Hogwart?"

"That's amazing," Sarah said with her eyes wide.

"Not much. Every mythical has magic, mine's imitation. Long as I've heard it," this time Sarah's voice rolled over his lips, "I can duplicate it just as easy as this." Her laughter made him smile.

"My but that is the sincerest form of flattery."

Mason looked at the wall, the last brick in place, the last of the mortar spread, nothing left to do but seal the area. The goblin was busy struggling to get the lid off the sealant when Sarah smoothed her hand over the patch they'd made, admiring what Mason had done. Instantly the patch was sealed. Sarah drew her hand back and gasped. When he faced forward, Mason gawked at what he saw. "How'd you do that?"

"Must be my magic," she said still in shock herself.

"Blimey!" Mason approached the wall and gave it a knock, it was still standing. "Well," he said, "gotta be movin' along, more spots to patch. Don't suppose you'd care to join me?"

"Sorry, I have to get," Sarah thought careful about how best to get where she wanted without letting out too much information about what she was doing, "to where the damage is the worst."

The goblin humpfed at her, "Ambitious one ain't ya? Suit yourself then. You're goin' wanna go that way," he indicated left, "until you come to what looks like a dead end. Don't turn round, otherwise the maze will mix everything up on you and the passage with close. Instead, keep lookin' at that wall and reach out your right arm, the passage will open and you can go right through the wall. That shouldn't be any problem for you, right?" he nudged her with his elbow. "Once you're in the new passage take the third left and go down the stairs. At the bottom there's a spotty chap who'll get you the rest of the way. All the worst damage is closer to the castle, but if I was you, I'd stay with me."

"You're probably right, but I'm like you, I have a job to do. I'm sure that someone such as yourself can understand duty." Her fingers crossed behind the long sleeves of her peasant shirt as she hoped he would agree.

Mason beamed and slid a thumb beneath the strap of his overall, "Indeed I do, miss, indeed I do." He tipped his cap to her before he left.

Following the directions she had been given, Sarah made her way to the staircase and approached carefully, whoever this "spotty chap" was, she didn't want any surprises. There were only a few wide steps which finished in two small columns, each with a flat pedestal that held a bust of an angel. Sarah had never come across anything like this last time. The closest was a courtyard with the wiseman's throne and a large urn, but this was beautiful. Then it occurred to her, it shouldn't have been. She asked Mason to send her where the damage was worst and he had tricked her!

"Halt, who goes there?" a familiar voice cried out while Sarah was still looking around at the columns and arcades that lined the open space to the right at the bottom of the stairs. "Milady!" Sir Didymus cried out, "Milady is it truly you?"

"Didymus?" Sarah flung her arms open wide and the tiny creature went tearing into them like a shot. "It's very good to see you Sir Didymus."

"And to see you, sweet maiden. But tell me, what brings thee back here." He narrowed his eyes in on her out of concern.

"I wish to see the one within the Labyrinth whose smell is the keenest, who's heart is the bravest, who shall fight anyone, anywhere, anytime..."

"'Tis I milady, 'tis I," he extended his arm wide and bounced madly back into her grip. "Ambrosius, come we have a visitor, you and I."

The sheepdog came lugging into the court as if it were feeding time and jumped at Sarah, who set Didymus down so that she could pet Ambrosius properly. "Hello fearless steed," she smiled down into the fur that covered his eyes. "I wish I had longer to stay and chat, but I must reach the castle before nightfall."

Fox that he was, Didymus smelled something not right about Sarah's words. "Ah, so you have come for more than just a visit with me and my steed. What is it that you've come for?"

"Please understand, I would tell you, but I'm here to do something very personal, something I dare not get anyone else involved with."

"But milady, when last you, Hoggle, Brother Ludo and I joined forces we were unstoppable."

"Be that as it may," Sarah smiled at the memory, "I am no longer a child and the journey I make now has greater risks and greater stakes. I won't involve you."

Didymus looked at her and switched his head from resting on his left shoulder to his right and back again. "So it is true, you are no longer a child. Indeed you have grown up nearly as much as you have grown beautiful." At his side Ambrosius rolled onto his back and begged for a tummy rub. "Ambrosius!"

Sarah bent to oblige him. "Thank you Sir Didymus. I wonder if you might help me some. Mason said you could help me get to where the damage of the Labyrinth was greatest, but this," she eyed their surroundings, "this is far too beautiful a spot to have gotten me any closer to the castle."

"Not so. In fact, Mason has helped you through the first quarter of the maze. This is a sanctuary. Jareth had it built ages ago, but few know of its existence. With no bridge to guard at the bog, he sent me here."

"To guard what?"

Sarah followed him to a doorway, "This."

"What is this?"

"This is the tomb of the Leanan Sidhe and none but the king may enter without my permission."

This was a conversation that had been had many times before. "May I have your permission?" Sarah asked him growing more curious with each second she stood before the mausoleum.

At great length Didymus said, "Yes?" It was more of a question than an answer, but either way.

Based on the type of building she was about to enter, Sarah did so quietly and with immense respect. Torches burned along the walls casting their light on the herringbone stone pattern on the floor. The room was small, smaller than Sarah expected it to be. On the far wall was a gigantic painting of a beautiful woman whose hair was long and black. She wore a violet dress that wove around her accenting a slim figure. Her arms crossed her bodice, hands and fingers extended up. She had long fingers, almost unnaturally long Sarah thought. Flames licking at the torches made light jump and she appeared to dance. Without knowing it, Sarah had approached the photo. Beneath it a plaque read: Here lies the soul of the Leanan Sidhe although her body is realms away. Not even her son could quiet the cries that came from loving too hard until one dies.

Sarah reached up to wipe away a fugitive tear that had escaped her eye. If Jareth had this place built, it only stood to reason that this woman was his mother. She thought the look in the eyes of the painting was familiar. They had the same passion in them that Jareth's eyes did, the same far away something that she was never able to put a finger on that made him seem forever elusive. On the floor, beneath her photo there were piles of dead flowers. Sarah turned to leave, suddenly feeling like she didn't belong in this shrine, like she had been wrong to even enter it. In the corners of the opposite wall she saw two cases made of crystal. In the one to the right bloomed a calla lily. In the case on the left, what Sarah recognized as an Indian dream catcher hung, two raven feathers dangling from leather ropes off the bottom. It was one thing to find the plant, it was quite another to come across a piece of native American culture inside a tomb hidden deep in the Labyrinth. Fear struck her heart and she fled the mausoleum. Something or someone was very unhappy that she was there.

In her hurry, she nearly tripped over Sir Didymus, "Milady, are you alright?"

"I...ah...you know Didymus, I'm thirsty. Do you know where I could get some water?" Sarah hadn't thought about filling up before leaving Hoggle's house.

Sir Didymus guided her to a small fountain off to the side of the courtyard. She refilled the bottle in the side pocket of her bag and then cupped her hand and gulped down mouthfuls until her thirst subsided. She pulled out an apple and some of the crackers and cheese she had packed. "Wish I would have thought to bring a knife," Sarah said. Almost before she finished wishing for it, the knife appeared in her hand. Sarah split the apple into eight pieces and sliced some of the cheese. "Care to join me?"

The small fox jumped up on the fountain to sit beside her. She handed him a piece of the apple which he looked at for some time until he saw Sarah eat a piece and then he knew what to do with it. Sarah fed Ambrosius a piece of cheese which he seemed to enjoy quite a lot. Reunited, the three of them ate while Sarah and Didymus chattered away. He couldn't resist recounting how many goblins there had been who suffered at the hands of the brave knight since last Sarah was in this strange place. 'No doubt,' she thought as she watched his animated re-enactments

At some length, having recovered from the eerie feelings which spooked her out of the mausoleum, Sarah asked Didymus about the tomb. "The king had it built to honor his mother," he admitted as a sorrowful expression lengthened his face.

"How did she die?"

"The Leanan Sidhe went Aboveground and stayed too long. She willed herself to die. The mortals buried her body in a unmarked grave and her soul returned to its home in the Underground. At first, it was quite a bothersome thing, wrecking all kinds of havoc round the castle. Fey do not commonly condemn themselves the way she had. Her soul could not admit that it had passed and so Jareth built this home for her."

"I thought fey were immortal," Sarah said, confusion written in her eyes.

"Tis true. Yet there are a few things that can do them in. Foremost, iron, they are most susceptible to the metal and even a small wound has the potential to threaten their life. A jab in the heart is certain death. The next greatest danger is entrapment. A mortal will sometimes snare a fey, usually when they are in creature form and imprison them in iron cages. The iron weakens the fey's magic and therefore they are unable to escape. This ties nicely into the third certainty, staying too long in the mortal world. The fey's magic begins to fade, then the memories of the Underground and the life they knew, they change, not only who they are but what they are. None that I know of have ever survived the transformation from fey to mortal."

"But what about Jareth? He's gone Aboveground," Sarah argued, "plenty of times."

Sir Didymus made his eyes wide, "Jareth is a different story. He must go Aboveground in order to do what it is he does. He never stays long."

For a moment she couldn't speak. Jareth had come Aboveground, risked entrapment, risked losing his magic, his memory to see her. But then something in the way the brave knight looked at her was making Sarah think there was more to it. "I know he's been there for at least a full day. There's more to it isn't there?"

"Jareth can do as he pleases, he's..." Sir Didymus had all to eagerly offered Sarah information that his highness would not be happy for a mortal to know and chose his next words very carefully, "...king."

"But,..."

"It is no use milady. My tongue wags too easily in your company and I shall say no more on this topic." The fox crossed his arms and looked away from her.

"Does he come here often?"

"Whom?"

"Jareth. There must be twenty five bouquets of flowers in there." Sarah said remembering the collection beneath the huge painting on the far wall.

Didymus eyed her, perplexed by her concern for the fey she had once defeated. "He comes here often, yes, but he never stays long. He and his mother had a difficult relationship in life and even in death she keeps him at arm's length, never allowing him to truly grieve for her or get to close."

That was it. The part of her that now held Jareth's soul was what the Leanan Sidhe was trying to rush out of the mausoleum. Even in the smallest amounts, beyond the constraints of death, a mother still knew her child. What Sarah couldn't figure out was why? Why would a mother want to cast her own son away even after death? Jareth could be cruel, but had he been so cruel, even to her? Surely someone who came to morn, who brought flowers and built such grand monuments wasn't capable of the kind of cruelty that made you turn them away.

As if he was reading her mind Sir Didymus reiterated, "I've told you much too much already milady, I'm afraid I can tell you no more."

All around them the golden sun was turning more crimson. It was growing late. "Sir Didymus, how many hours of daylight are left?"

The fox looked into the sky and studied the position of the sun, "I would guess we have another four hours or so before darkness begins to fall. Why doust thou ask milady?"

"I mustn't be in the Labyrinth once it gets dark. Hoggle said that I mustn't I've got to get to the castle." Quickly she gathered her water and closed her bag. "It was wonderful to see you again," she told him and bent to kiss his cheek. Then with a final wave Sarah took off through the opposite end of the courtyard in a fast jog on her way to the castle.

"But milady...milady..." Sir Didymus called after her, "you don't know where you're going?"

Though she had been hasty, Sarah was still headed in the right direction. Had she exhibited a little more patience, her friend could have shown her a faster path, not plagued by the mysteries and mythicals of the Labyrinth, but what was done, was done. The walls were starting to look monotonous again, no doors, no turns, no holes large enough to crawl through, but at least there were holes. When she saw the damage, it comforted her. Where the damage grew more severe, her feet traveled closer to the castle, closer to Jareth. Sarah's mind wondered again about his relationship with his mother. Distraction had taken over her better judgment and as she ran facing straight ahead, looking for somewhere to turn, some direction to change, the floor beneath her opened and she was swallowed up.

"Damn!" she cried out when she made contact with the hard dirt floor. "I would go and land myself in an oubliette." All around her she could see only black. It had been the same when the not so helpful helping hands lowered her into the oubliette the first time. Only then she had Hoggle to save her. What was it he said? 'Look for hidden doors,' she thought as she began crawling around feeling with her hands. "Ouch!" she cried when her fingers stubbed into something rising from the floor. It was wide, cold, made of stone and rose four feet or more off the floor. Using it for balance Sarah stood. She found herself behind a podium of sorts. Smoothing her hands over the top, she found a small depression, circular, about the size of a half dollar. Pressing on it, it gave way. Her finger drew back. 'A button,' she thought depressing it as far as it would go.

Light filled the cavern where she had landed. To her right a stone head very much like the false alarms she and Hoggle had met when he was leading her toward the castle. "Welcome to the Hall of Truth," the head told her.

"Thank you," she replied, "but if you don't mind, why am I here?"

"I don't know. I was going to ask you."

Sarah was flustered. The fall was rather unexpected and she was not thinking before asking her questions. Again she tried, "What must I do to get out of your hall, please?"

"Ah, that is a much simpler question. I will ask you five questions which you must answer honestly. Should you fail to give an honest answer you will be met by some sort of obstacle, there are many here eager to be utilized. Should the obstacle overwhelm you, you will be vanquished from the Hall of Truth and delivered to the Pit of Consequences. Sound fun?"

"No," Sarah replied thinking that truth was a rather interpretive concept and who was this stone head to determine her truth or not.

"Very good! That's the first one then. That was easy enough." The hall before her illuminated with a soft yellow light, a reward for her honesty, "Now what's your name?"

'This was going to be a breeze,' she thought as she replied, "Sarah." The stone head let out a cough as though her answer was some how incomplete. "Sarah...Williams?" It came out more of a question this time.

"You must advance to the platform," the head explained, casting a red light on to a platform a few feet down the hall. "Use the items at the platform to provide your answer."

There was always a catch in this place. Sarah approached the platform to see a series of numbered tiles. "How am I supposed to spell my name with a bunch of numbers?" she moaned.

"Not my problem."

Sarah wanted to scream something about how unfair this whole thing was. How was she supposed to know what to do when he was behaving in such a cryptic fashion? Cryptic! That's what this was. It was a cryptogram. Sarah had done them right out of the Sunday paper with her father for years before Karen came along and changed him forever. Each letter was assigned a number and you broke the code. She counted the number of tiles - thirteen - the exact number of letters in her name. This place already knew all the answers, it was testing her. This head that barked at her so monotonously from the side of this hall wasn't seeking truth from her it wanted to see if she would admit the truth. Fine! If that's what it took to get out of here. There were three number fives. Two each of the ones, threes, and sixes. One two, one four, one seven and one eight.

While she worked she talked aloud so she could hear herself think. "The fives must be a's," she said, "because there are three." She dropped the fives into their slots. Then she picked up all her double number tiles and began to drop them into place. "One, five, blank, five, blank, blank, three, six, six, three, five, blank, one. Okay, now the singles: One, five, two, five, four, seven, three, six, six, three, five, eight, one."

"Correct! You may move one." The red follow spot now shown what reminded her of a bowling ally.

Approaching the lit area, she could see that in fact it was very much like a bowling alley. There were twenty pins, two of each number zero to nine. In the pedestal beside her a clear shoot dispensed wooden balls about the size of the skee balls from the Chuck E. Cheese's where she would sometimes take Toby. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Patience," the stone told her as it slid along like some giant chess piece trying to keep up with the mortal woman. "Most mortal woman hate to admit this, but what is your age?"

That struck a chord. Sarah hated that she was thirty, hated that she felt as if she'd wasted so much of her life. 'What the hell?' she figured as she wrapped her hand around one of the wooden spheres and lined it up on the alley. Her delicate fingers lifted from the ball and gravity took over. It rolled slowly down the lane. When it reached the end it struck a two pin and plunked into the black hole behind the pins. A small goblin popped up seemingly from nowhere and began running back and forth across the lane, shouting at Sarah about her inability and frankly being rather distracting. "What's that?"

"That is one of the hall's obstacles."

"But I didn't lie. I just missed the pin is all."

"I should have mentioned that the game does require a certain amount of skill and concentration." Sarah thought she saw the thing smirk when he said that.

With all her will she focused on the three at the end of the lane, even that damned goblin couldn't stop her. Her fingers wrapped around another ball and she let if fly a bit more force behind this attempt. The ball rolled beneath the goblin's feet and sent him tumbling. 'Bonus!' Sarah thought as she watched it continue to roll along and eventually take out one of the three pins. Without waiting for the stone to tell her to take her second shot, she grabbed the third ball and with as much concentration and fervor as before hurled it at one of the zeroes. This time she managed to knock them both over. Rather impressed with her self she turned back to the stone, "Well?"

"You may proceed." Another few feet ahead was a narrow path which led to a platform open on all sides but for the path. "Please stand on the platform in the center."

Sarah approached this challenge more carefully. She didn't know what lie below the platform and wasn't going to take any chance that it would be easier to conquer than the Hall of Truth. Once on the platform she released a great sigh. Behind her the narrow pathway folded back leaving her standing on a spot no more than twice the size of her feet. Her heart beat so fast in her chest she felt as if it would knock her off balance at any second. Deep breaths filled and fled her lungs in a steady rhythm as she tried to calm herself. From beneath her, the floor seemed to rise up around the pedestal. There were eight rings each divided in to 26 portions, each portion containing a letter of the alphabet, each ring made up of a complete set. They spun around her alternating clockwise and counterclockwise, speeding up as the concentric circles went further out.

"Who brings you to this Labyrinth?" The stone head spoke once more after a rather long silence watching Sarah dread this challenge.

The first wheel was spinning clockwise. Sarah poised a toe and waited for the H to make its way around. She stepped forward. The panel beneath her feet gave way and Sarah believed she would fall the entire depth of the chasm that surrounded the pedestal. Instead she dropped only a few feet before the stone head said, "Don't lie to me Sarah."

After a moment the platform rose and Sarah watched the counter clock-wise spinning of the second wheel. Didymus had brought her this far and Mason had brought her to Didymus. But there names were either too long or too short. F - R - I - E - N - D - S. That would fit she thought as she made her move for the F. A hatch on the far wall dropped open and Sarah knew immediately she was wrong again. Just as a barrel point slid out and shot a stream of flames across the hall, she dropped flat to the board beneath her, the spinning tiles giving her back one hell of an Indian burn, but it was better than the burn she'd have gotten otherwise.

The flames receded, "Perhaps you may not want to lie to yourself either."

What did this place want from her? Hoggle had lead her straight to the Labyrinth's doors and afterwards it was her friends which had brought her to this point. What else could the stone possible have believed would have brought her here? Certainly wasn't the hospitality. Painfully the truth came to her head just as it had come to her heart - Jareth. The circles were spinning faster now and the task at hand was growing more impossible. If only she'd have thought of it sooner. Blurs of black ink went zipping passed, none staying long enough that she could focus on what they were. With a gulp she lunged forward on her best guess. In her mind she wished to land on the letter J. Surely enough when she opened her eyes the J was between her feet. She wished again as she leapt to the next ring and the next and the next and the last. Sarah eagerly jumped off the final ring and looked behind her. Now the letters seem ten feet tall as they spelled out the name of the Goblin King.

"Corrrrrect!" No sooner had her host spoke the spot illuminated her final challenge.

Sarah was tired and frightened. That last challenge had nearly done her in she had no idea how long she had been here or how deep under the Labyrinth she was. Being on the surface would have at least given her the few fleeting rays of light which remained in the day, but here she had only the stone head and the gloomy spot. "What if I don't want to move on?"

"You have no choice," came the reply as cold as the granite he was made of.

Reluctantly, Sarah moved into the light and awaited the next challenge, "What business have you with the king?"

"What business is that of yours?" she questioned.

"You will not ask questions. You will only answer them."

"Really? Well what if I was to beat you at your own game?" Even if she wasn't sure how she could do it, anything was better than just giving this thing its way.

"No one has ever beaten me. Few have ever survived this hall. I have been more than generous with you, giving you the simplest of questions to start."

"Until I arrived no one had beaten the king either and you, you call yourself generous! What's wrong with the creatures is this maze? They don't know a thing about generosity."

"That's your interpretation of it," he retorted.

Sarah crossed her arms about her chest, "Are you saying I'm wrong?"

"Indeed!"

"How so?" Their argument was heated, each had their eyes intent upon the other and words spat back and forth so quickly that if a response weren't quickly thought of one of the opponents would be left speechless and looking rather foolish.

"I asked you if you were having fun."

"So you did."

"I asked you your name."

"Can't argue with that."

"I asked you your age."

"And I would have been most ashamed to have gotten that answer wrong."

"But you still do not find me generous?"

"Oh yes, yes I do very much so." A giant smile spread across her lips

"Then let us proceed, we've much to do and little time to do it in."

"But we're through," Sarah told him, "And if it would please you all the same I would like to know how I can get back to the Labyrinth's surface from here.

The stone head laughed, "Woman you've got mad if, you dare to imagine you've beaten me."

"Ah, but I have. You asked if I still did not find you generous and I said that in fact I did, that being my fifth honest answer since my arrival in your hall. If I correctly remember your explanation five truthful answers in a row means I've completed your challenge." She stood her ground smug and firm.

He opened his mouth and the roar that came forth caused the walls to crumble a bit. Sarah began to run as fast as her feet could carry her in the direction of the follow spot hoping that this tunnel led somewhere, preferably back up. The further she got, the louder the head cried, the louder he cried the more the walls caved in. Up ahead she could see just a few streaks of light and an old rope ladder like she and Hoggle used to crawl out of the tunnels where the cleaners had come for them. By the time she reached the fourth rung, the Hall of Truth behind her was nothing more than stone and rubble. It would be a long while before anyone played that game again.

In the distance the sun was setting, positioned like Humpty Dumpty on the top of one of the Labyrinth walls. Sarah looked left and right, both seeming to be viable options as she could see that they both had turns coming, but she went left when she spotted a portion of wall that had completely caved in. "Wherever the destruction is greatest," she reminded herself before taking off down the path. Cautiously she looked in where the wall had caved through and it made her miss Mason, which made her miss Hoggle. It was getting darker inside the Labyrinth even though the sky was still light. Sarah could barely see five feet in front of her let alone tell what was inside this room she seemed to be peering into. "Best I not take any chances," she said and continued straight ahead.

There were significant spots of damage showing in the Labyrinth now and the conflict that it created in Sarah's mind kept her from enjoying the fact that she was getting closer. Still she must have been deep in the Labyrinth for it to be so dark. She tried wishing for a flashlight, but with no result. For a minute she wondered why her magic was failing her, but then she realized that she hadn't had magic before so what would she be losing. She wished for something to eat and one of the apples from her bag was instantly in her hand. Okay so she hadn't totally lost her magic, maybe it just wasn't strong enough to retrieve things that were very far away she rationalized.

She could barely see in front of her nose when her hands felt another caved in section of wall. When Sarah looked inside it seemed quiet enough and the darkness made it look small. A yawn contorted her face as she thought about curling up in a corner and hopefully going unnoticed for the night. She could have wished for Hoggle, but he'd take her back home with him and she'd just have to do it all again tomorrow. By then everything could change again, sure it could have been for the good, but it also could have been for the worse. She'd come far this first day and if she could just make a few hours until sunrise she would no doubt reach the castle in tomorrow's time. It was a chance her aching legs forced her to take. Slipping her pack off her shoulders so it could serve as a pillow, she stepped through the opening and turned to the right sliding her hand along the wall hoping to find a corner. The floor was soft and giving beneath her feet. Sarah only hoped that it wouldn't giving way completely.

From behind the mortal two strong arms grabbed her, one large hand over her mouth suppressing her scream and the second around her waist. Much as she tried to deny it her mind told her this was her end. She refused to give up. Her arms and legs clawed and kicked at her attacker, but to no avail. Whatever it was that had a hold of her was too strong to fend off. Wisely she decided to save her energy on the off chance that this thing let her go and she might have a moment's opportunity to flee. If her mouth were free she'd have called for Hoggle as she was only too hesitant to do earlier. Her mind went numb and her body limp.


	14. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN - FOOLS RUSH IN**

Hoggle's small feet plodded along the path that led back to his home thankful that years of traveling the same route had made him adept enough to travel it without the benefit of light. His thoughts were consumed with Sarah's well being. He'd told her how dangerous the Labyrinth could be at night, tried to warn her, told her to call on him if she need anything, but day had come and gone as he stood vigilant at the gates with no word. Hoggle opened the door to his humble home. His daughter was already in bed. Drema came rushing up to him, "Where is she? Where's Sarah?"

"Don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? You told me you'd keep an eye on her."

Hoggle flopped into his favorite chair and stared straight ahead, ignoring his wife stooped at his side, "She never called me. How can I keep an eye on her if she doesn't call me?"

Drema put her arms around him, "Oh dear, I'm so sorry. You must be worried sick."

He was, more so than he cared to admit. "I don't want to think 'bout it anymore. Let's just go to bed. The sooner tomorrow comes the happier I'll be."

"You can't do that. You can't just hide in bed when Sarah might need you. You've got to go find her."

"I can't. If she don't wish for me I can't go to her."

Drema looked away as her tears began to well up, "Well what good is magic if you can't do anything with it?"

"Come on Drema. Let's sleep this night away. When morning comes I'll find an excuse to make my way into the Labyrinth for somethin' or another and I'll find her. She's a smart girl. I'm sure she's fine." He took his wife's hand and they settled into bed, neither one slept nor did they speak. Morning might as well have been a week away.

Arulan came into Jareth's chambers unannounced. Fortunately he was dressed. An elegant pair of black silk pajamas draped him as he sat on the green marble settee, the fire ablaze. "Your highness," she called as she entered.

"What is it?" In the soft glow of the fire she saw his lips just barely moving to let the words out.

"I've a matter I wish to discuss with you?"

"Can it not wait until morning?"

"No your majesty I do not believe that it can wait another moment." She joined him on the settee. Her shoulders square with determination. "I wish to discuss what transpired between you and the mortal."

Jareth rose an eyebrow wondering how why she would come to him to discuss a topic he thought he had clearly closed. "Really then?"

"I know that you went to see her. I'm guessing you couldn't keep up your charade of coldness and you told her once again of your feelings for her." She noticed him glancing away into the flames and surmised she was correct. "You know you can tell me Jareth. I've never betrayed you and I don't have any intention of starting now."

"Dear lady, I beg you not trouble yourself with ills you can not mend. The mortal has denied me again. Yes, but don't you see in doing so she has set me free to better focus my energies on ruling my kingdom."

"Is that how you see it?" she barked at him.

"As a matter of fact."

"Well, if you think that sending out your goblins to spy on the Representatives and turning yourself into some evil beast is for the best king..."Arulan gasped at her own outburst. "I figured she had denied you Jareth, but I fear it is something more that has been said or done," she accentuated the latter, "to put you in a mood as foul as this one." The king continued staring into the fire "You must love her very much." This time her words were gentle and kind.

"Not at all," he said gazing deeper in the fire, in his minds eye he saw the dancing flames as reflections of him with his mortal. The way they blended together into one large fire, the way they seemed to grasp at one another and then draw back. 'Arulan, you have no idea just what had happened between us that day,' Jareth thought as he lost himself further and further into his daydream.

"You don't want to tell me and that's fine, but I'll be here, ready to listen when you need to talk." Her hand reached out for his shoulder. "I wish you wouldn't keep things all bottled up inside this way."

"I don't believe in wishes anymore."

"No wonder your kingdom crumbles down around you. How long are you going to let your foolish pride keep you from being king? You can't go back to her and she has no power to call upon you. You must put the past behind you. What is said and done is said and done," the elf reminded him. Jareth rose an eyebrow at her indicating just how unwelcome her words were. Arulan rose and left. She didn't care what Jareth said, he still loved the mortal and probably always would, but he had a kingdom to run not ruin.

"Who's stepping on Ludo's bed," a rough voice came from behind Sarah but she remained motionless. Ludo let out a tiny howl and two flint rocks brushed themselves together igniting a small pile of kindling encircled with stone. The tiny fire was no good for heat, but it nicely lit his little corner of the Labyrinth. He lay the creature in his arms in the glow of the flames. "Sar - rah?" he tilted his head looking at her as if he remembered the face he was looking at and yet didn't. "Sar-rah," this time he shook her gently.

Her vision was blurry when she came to. All her life Sarah laughed at women, like Karen, like her mother who actually passed out from fear, and now she was one of them. What on earth had made her react that way? Then she remembered what had frightened her in the first place. Ludo bent down so that his face was illuminated by the fire and she could see his comforting smile. "Ludo! It was you who grabbed me and scared me half to death." The beast shook his head up and down fiercely. "Ludo!" Sarah gave him a gentle slap on the arm.

"Ludo sorry." He sat facing her looking more sorrowful than any beast should.

Unable to resist any longer, Sarah flung herself into his arms and became lost in his sheer massiveness. She hugged him tight, happy as ever to be with him again. "It's okay Ludo. I'm okay."

"Sar-rah still Ludo's friend?"

"Of course I am," she soothed him as her hands stroked his thick fur. "I've missed you terribly."

"Ludo miss Sar-rah." He looked at her curiously with his head cocked, "Where Sar-rah come from?"

"It's a long story," Sarah practically moaned, exhausted from all the day had given her. "I'll tell you about it in the morning. Right now I'd just love to get some sleep."

Ludo pointed toward the make shift mattress pushed up against what had once been a complete wall. His huge paws gently edged her closer to the thing. 'It was big enough to sleep her whole family,' Sarah thought as she crawled onto the mattress. It was soft and not very supportive, but it would do fine for a night's rest. Almost as suddenly as her head hit the pillowy softness, dreams took her over. Ludo curled beside her their two backs rested together for heat, "Night Sar-rah." He whispered. The sleeping mortal never even stirred.

Ludo moaned as morning's first rays stung his sensitive eyes. Funny that a beast such as he would have anything sensitive about him, but Ludo's eyes were second to his heart. He nudged Sarah forcing her to stir as well. "Sar-rah? Sar-rah?"

"What is it Karen?"

"Kar-ren?" He shook her again, "Sar-rah?"

This time she opened her eyes wide and her pupils shrank in the sunshine. Her first night in the Underground had come and gone and she was still here. "Ludo?" she called rubbing her eyes "Is it morning already?" Ludo just shook his head. "I feel like I only just fell asleep." Sleeping on the cold floor of the Labyrinth, even despite the mattress, was uncomfortable, but at least she had the safety of Ludo's nearness.

"Ludo, do you know how to get to the castle from here?"

The beast shook his head side to side.

"Oh, you never were good with directions."

Still shaking his head side to side Ludo told her, "King smash door."

"What do you mean, Ludo?" He wasn't much of a conversationalist either if Sarah remembered correctly.

"Ludo show Sar-rah."

"Okay Ludo. Show me," she took the hand he offered and let him drag her along the way. After a number of turns and double backs, Sarah was getting hungry. She took two apples from her bag and offered one to Ludo. He accepted and swallowed it whole. Sarah nibbled on hers nearly choking on a bit when she saw Ludo fall into a hole up ahead. In the seconds it took her to reach the spot he'd vanished, the hole was gone. "Great!" Sarah cried up toward the sky, "How in the hell am I supposed to follow him now?"

Without warning the same patch of land opened up and swallowed her too. 'Why did I have to ask?' she thought as she hit the bottom. Now what would she face? For a land that had no idea she was returning, it certainly seemed ready for her. "Ludo?" she called out into the darkness.

"Sar-rah?"

"Ludo where are you?"

"Sar-rah?"

"Just keep talking Ludo and I'll find you." A few more calls of her name and Sarah managed to wrangle a few handfuls of his fur. "Okay Ludo, now listen, I want you to walk with me to the wall. We'll go to my left Ludo, so your right. Ready?" He immediately began to move as she directed. They slid toward the wall and felt the earth against their shoulders. "Good Ludo, good. Now you go right and I'll go left and we'll feel for torches or something on the walls. If you find any tunnels or doors you call me, okay?" The beast was unresponsive. "I can't see you if your shaking your head," which is exactly what he was doing, "so if you understand me you have to tell me, okay Ludo?"

"Okay."

Minutes later the duo rejoined with one another on the other side of what they now knew was an oubliette, a dark, cold, terrible oubliette. "You've got to be kidding me." Sarah kicked the wall. "Feel around on the floor Ludo, for anything that feels like it's a door or might have a door hidden under it." The search went on for what seemed hours until she swallowed her pride and shouted, "Hoggle I need you!"

Mason was just catching up with his old pal, telling him about the girl he'd met who had magic to rebuild the Labyrinth. "Where?" Hoggle asked, desperation straining his voice, "Where did you send her?"

"I sent her to the shrine. Why's it matter so much to you?"

Surely the shrine would do her no harm. Sir Didymus was there and he would undoubtedly direct her somewhere safe. "I'll explain later," he shouted back over his shoulder as he ran off in the direction of the shrine, fear and anxiety making him forget that he could have as easily transported there. Minutes later he stood before Sir Didymus breathless, holding his side and attempting to catch his breath in short gasps. "Where...is...she?"

"Where is whom?" the tiny knight replied.

Didymus seemed edgy even for Didymus who hopped around like a mad squirrel even when nothing was wrong. Hoggle narrowed his eyes at him, "You know who. Where is she?"

"I assure you Mr. Hoggle, that I have no idea of whom you speak." His words came out slowly, each with some strain or accent attached. The cream plume which extended from his floppy blue hat pointed toward the tomb as he gave his head a tilt and jerk.

At last Hoggle understood what he was trying to tell him. Jareth was at the tomb of the Leanan Sidhe. It wasn't wise for them to continue their conversation. This time very quietly he said, "Where did you send her?"

"No where," he replied. "Milady took off when it started getting dark." Didymus repositioned the direction of his hat's feather, "She went that way."

"And what are the two of you discussing?" Jareth had appeared abruptly behind them a scowling look on his face. Their quiet conversation had very much peaked his interest.

"Nothing." Hoggle offered up in a weak voice.

"Come, come Hogbrain, you wouldn't abandon your post at the gates for nothing, would you?" the king continued to interrogate.

"No, no I wouldn't. It's just that..." At the blatant lie he began to stumble.

"Mr. Hoggle was just asking me if I had noticed the direction in which his daughter wandered off."

"Yeah, that's what I was wonderin'."

"Why would you bring your child here, you repulsive little creature?" Jareth was less than pleased with Hoggle for his decision to bring his daughter to the Labyrinth, but it was far better than his reaction to knowing Sarah was in the Labyrinth would have been. "Well don't just stand there. Get to finding her before she winds up stuck in some oubliette somewhere and you go blaming me for your own indiscretion."

"Yes yer majesty," Hoggle replied as he headed off in the direction Didymus had indicated softly calling, "Sarah? Sarah sweetheart?" for fear that the older Sarah might reply to his cries.

The riding crop Jareth carried in his right hand slapped against part of one of the stone topiaries surrounding the fountain in the garden outside the tomb. "Why don't you just transport in on her you idiot?"

As he felt the tug of Sarah's call pulling him toward where ever she was Hoggle couldn't help thinking someone wanted him to find her, for Jareth's question gave him the means for an easy escape. "Your right yer majesty. I'll be doin' that now."

Sarah was slunk down against one of the walls of the oubliette and the moans that she was making could have easily compared to Ludo's any day. "Sar-rah?" he called to her but no reply came. Sarah was busy trying to hold her head together for it felt as though it were going to split wide open and it seemed squeezing her eyes shut like a vice still didn't make the visions go away.

'Hurry Hoggle, please,' she thought just before she gave in and let the images take her over. It was a child, not much older than she had been when first she had come to the Labyrinth. Sarah's body felt her immense exhaustion, her hunger, her fear. It was definitely a girl. She was wearing a dress, strapless and yellow. Sarah could tell it had been a very bright yellow at one point only now it was grubby with smudges of Underearth. In fact, the girl was layered in it, it dug under her nails and marked her face. Her hair had been neatly braided and tied with a ribbon, but wild strands hung loose around her face and in her eyes. The girl was quickly growing tired. Thoughts of her brother faded away, her family seemed like a dream, her life Aboveground a fantasy. Brown eyes fell closed and she faded into unconsciousness. In moments the feelings seemed to end even though the vision was still strong. Sarah could see the oubliette and she could still see the little girl. Her mind's eye walked her over to the sleeping child as Sarah drew her strength from Hoggle's words. 'You're in control,' he had told her. Her shaky hand reached for the soiled dress and gently shook the sleeping child. She fell to her back and glazed eyes stared at the earthen ceiling above them. Sarah screamed and threw open her eyes, a bright yellow ribbon clutched in her fingers.

Quickly Hoggle grabbed the small lantern from his belt, the one he was suddenly thankful Drema made him take along this morning. A sad sight came to light before his eyes. "Hush now," Hoggle said as he swept her into his paternal embrace. "Hush."

Sarah sobbed into his small shoulder. She wept for the girl, she wept for herself and she did so uncontrollably. Jareth was capable of being cruel but not even her most awful nightmare depicted him as a killer. "He left her here to die," the mortal choked out between sobs.

"It's not what you think," the dwarf tried to tell her.

Thrusting the ribbon before his eyes, "Not what I think! It's not what I think! I think he locked her up in here and forgot all about her until she was dead." Sarah noticed Ludo looking particularly frightened as he watched them carefully. "Hoggle," she pleaded before lowering her head to his shoulder and once more began to rain her tears over him.

Jareth actually had forgotten about the girl and so it could be said that inadvertently he had left her to die, but there was more to it than that. There was the fact that this girl had come after Sarah and by then the Goblin King was not keeping quite such a close eye on his opponents. It wasn't like he didn't have any remorse over what had happened. Cruel, yes he was cruel but not cold blooded. Thick fingers rode over waves of Sarah's black hair. "April was gonna be sixteen before the month's end when she wished her little brother away." Sarah's eyes met his exposing the scars her tears had left upon her cheeks. It felt even worse knowing this girl had a name, but she continued to listen while doing her best to not interrupt with another hysterical outburst. "She ran the Labyrinth quite well at first, but she had trouble with the riddles and made a few bad decisions. Well you know yourself that this place has a way of catchin' up with you. April landed here in this oubliette. There were nine hours still left on her clock."

"The king, he didn't use crystals much with mortal woman after you Sarah. Besides by the time the goblins claimed the child and the Christenin' was over, April was gone." Hoggle had been with the king when they discovered her. As gruesome a scene as he'd ever witnessed, Hoggle recalled seeing her so still, so cold and yet at peace. What's more, he saw his king nearly as devastated as he had been by the woman the dwarf held in his arms this moment. It had not been an easy discovery for Jareth who had never killed a human before or since. "You must believe me when I tell you that his majesty was positively beside himself at his own irresponsibility. He assumed full blame for what had happened and immediately set out to the Triumvirate to make a request that had never before been made of the fey."

Behind them Ludo came nearer and sat himself down as if it was story time. Hoggle sighed before he continued, "Jareth asked them for permission to reorder enough time so that the girl would be returned to livin'. Worried more about the reputation of the Underground than the state of its king they agreed; however, the child had already been christened and so it was too late to restore the parents as well. April was sent home to her parents and the history of their lives rewritten so that they no longer remembered a tiny boy who had once been a part of it with them."

Feeling a little more composed Sarah choked out, "And he can just do that?"

"With the help of the Triumvirate, Jareth can do just about anythin' he pleases. He is king you know." Hoggle told her.

"Even play God?" What he had done disgusted Sarah. Not only did he let this girl die down in this terrible dark and nasty place, but then he just manipulated time to bring her back as if that made it all better somehow. "And what about her brother? If he was being so generous, he should have sent the child home as well. He'd give them all back!" Memories of Toby came flooding into her recent recollection forcing Sarah to admit there was still a lot of resentment and distrust when it came to Jareth. "What does he need another goblin for anyway? All he does is kick them around or toss them back and forth."

"He gave that family back one child rather than leavin' them with nothin'."

"But Hoggle that doesn't make it okay!"

"To Jareth, it does," he found himself explaining. That was a new twist. He hated the idea of Jareth being with Sarah. He was furious that they had kissed, annoyed with the idea that Sarah would have let him go on and do whatever it was he would have. Is this what it was going to be like when his own daughter was old enough to attract the opposite sex? And yet there was that nagging something that couldn't bare to see the two of them at odds with each other again. "To him, it was the best he could do. Look Sarah, Jareth is the Goblin King. It's his lot in life. No one would fault you if you had to play the Wicked Witch or the Evil Step-Mother in a stage play because that's just your job. Takin' babies that are wished away, that's Jareth's job, that's what he does. Some things you just can't change."

In her heart, Sarah knew he was right. Jareth was who he was and changing even one thing about him might have taken away the things that made him cruel but it was to risk taking away the things that captivated her about him. There was that air of overconfidence she would have hated for him to lose, that smooth way he could take control of almost any situation that she was awed by. The Goblin King without his royal charm, why that was no Goblin King at all. She hadn't seen that until now, hadn't wanted to admit it was that piece of him which was bad that also made being with him feel so good. "Damn it!" she let out as she began to sob into Hoggle's shoulder again.

"Women," he said shaking his head. He let her cry for a few minutes, let her get as much as she could out of her system before it occurred to him that it was getting later. "Now whattya say we get out of here?" the dwarf asked.

"Out," Ludo said

Sarah nodded.

"Well then, did you look for doors like I told you?"

Sarah nodded.

"Where'd you come in from?" Ludo held up the lantern so they could look for the hole that they fell through. They could see an opening and just inside the rungs of a ladder. "How are we going to get up there?"

Ludo wrapped his large hands around Sarah and lifted her up to the rungs. She grabbed hold and pulled herself up. "Now what? I can't pull Ludo up, so Hoggle will have to come?"

"Well I can't lift him up?"

"Ludo stay," the beast offered.

"No Ludo," Sarah cried out. " I won't let you stay down here."

"Listen Sarah, you haven't the time to argue about this. I'll come with you and once we know you're safely back on your way, I'll have time to find a door and come back to get him loose." Hoggle offered.

Large blue eyes pleaded with her as Ludo was already lifting Hoggle into position at the bottom of the opening. Sarah had to reach down and help him get some footing, but the tiny dwarf made the climb. "Hoggle will be back to get you soon," she shouted back down to the beast they were leaving behind.

"Okay," they heard him moan.

At the end of the rather long climb, Sarah stepped out first, into the late afternoon sun that was still potent enough to warm her skin. Gentle hands reached out to help her friend resurface as well. "This isn't where we went in," she told Hoggle.

"So often happens here that where you go in is not where you come out."

"Now which way do I go?" she wondered out loud looking all around.

"There's only one way into the Goblin City now. Jareth reconfigured the maze after your victory." Sarah looked away when Hoggle called it that. It certainly didn't feel like a victory, not now anyway. "He made it so as there would be only on path to lead into the Goblin City and no one could sneak up on him again. If I could only remember how to get to that door." His feet seemed guided by a memory his mind couldn't find as he began strolling down a corridor he seemed to choose at random.

Sarah followed behind, gazing around at how ruined everything appeared, dilapidated and old. Not just old in the sense that it had existed for a few millennia, old in away that made it seem useless as if it had been a doll house that was played with for years and then shoved in the back of some closet and forgotten about when roller blades were invented. She wondered when she'd see all her "magic" start working here where things had been their worst. "It's no use," Sarah muttered when they'd been walking quite some ways and dusk was beginning to settle upon them.

"Too late now," her companion said matter-of-factly. "I warned you before you came here that this wasn't a good idea and you came anyway."

"Yeah, well, now look at what I've done. Jareth isn't going to want to see me. He's going to be angry that I've come, angry that you've helped and I'm tired Hoggle. Too tired to fight. He'll probably send me home the minute he lays eyes on me without even giving me a chance to apologize."

"Can't do that."

Her feet stopped their forward momentum, "Why not? I thought he was king and he could do anything he pleased. That's what you told me."

"I said with the help of the Triumvirate he could do just about anythin' he pleased. He has no power over you remember? He can't send you nowheres."

It certainly sounded wonderful. She'd have a chance to apologize, time to tell him that her magic was restoring his world, the world she helped to destroy and she could make her peace with him before she returned home. Sarah looked at Hoggle and a smile overtook her lips.

"Don't know what yer so happy about? Just because he can't send you home don't mean he won't try and kill ya or lock you away or somethin'. He may no longer be a magical fey in your presence, but he is still a man and he will still have all the capabilities any other man would when it comes to you."

That explained why he could so easily seduce her and why it could so readily effect her without it being a confession of his fey power over her. "Thanks Hoggle."

"Just don't want you lettin' your guard down and gettin' yourself into somethin' I can't help you get out of is all."

"But he'll see all the good I've done the Labyrinth, done the Underground..."

"And do you think he'll want to send you away when he realizes that it's your magic what's restored all of it?" Hoggle interrupted. "He asks the Triumvirate to send you back Aboveground and this place is a shambles again in a month. Keeping you here is his only guarantee that won't happen."

"I'm sure there's another way?" She seemed almost cavalier about it, as if there were always options to every scenario.

"You can't give him what he wants."

"What does he want?"

"You," the dwarf told her before he turned and continued on their journey. "All he's ever wanted was you."

Remaining motionless, Sarah stood open mouthed and watched Hoggle head further and further away from her. Suddenly the whole maze seemed to spread out and she felt small and insignificant. Ideas flooded her mind from all sorts of angles, down all sorts of venues and she couldn't clear her mind, not even enough to ask Hoggle to wait. The songs of the birds overhead faded and the light seemed to fade very quickly until everything was dark.

It wasn't long afterwards that Hoggle had found the door that led to the only remaining length of maze to reach the Goblin City. A black onyx door polished to unbelievable smoothness so that it almost looked like glass marked its entrance. Only now there was no door. No mirrored surface that reflected back the images before it. Only a frame. A gold frame open with a dead end just a few steps inside. On the ground around his feet were shards of what had once been the door. Some pieces were large, others mere slivers of glass. That's when he realized that Sarah was no where to be seen. Quick as his stout legs could carry him he ran back to find her passed out where he had turned his back to her and confessed Jareth's desires. Gently he knelt and cradled her head in his lap. "Forgive me," he said fiddling in her backpack for the water bottle and emptying almost half of it in her face.

Sarah sputtered back to life spitting the water in all directions, shocked at what was going on. "Oh don't tell me I fainted again," her hands wiped at her eyes and face. "I don't understand why I keep doing that."

"I think I do," Hoggle told her. "If you're okay to walk, I can show you."

She struggled to her feet and brushed herself off. "I'm fine."

Hoggle still stayed close by, just in case she were to relapse. "The door is just up ahead, but it's been smashed to pieces. Your fey magic must have sensed it and tried to give you a bit of a rest before we got there."

'Really,' Sarah thought. She'd have put her money on her knees giving out at the very idea of Jareth wanting her, but whatever. Hoggle knew more about this magic thing than she thought she ever would. Step by step Sarah had to force her feet to move, she felt incredibly weak, more so than she had on her entire journey thus far. By the time she reached the door she had to sit. There was a small piece of ground where no shards were lying about. Her legs folded beneath her and instinctively she reached for one of the pieces of onyx.

Much as she thought she never would, she was getting used to the sudden headaches that accompanied the visions. Images swam around in her head and it was difficult to focus. It took a great deal of concentration for her to make out Jareth raging and pacing back and forth in what appeared to be the throne room of his castle. He wore a long sword at his side, something Sarah had never seen him do before. Storming out the castle doors and down the streets of the Goblin City his sights set on the Labyrinth. Before long he reached the onyx door. A moment's clarity came over him and it seemed as if he might turn and walk away, but then he drew the sword and with a guttural, low and pain filled cry, the kind a wounded animal lets out, Jareth rose the iron blade and struck through the door sending an array of shards splintering to the ground. For a brief second, Sarah's magic took her inside his mind and she could hear him thinking, 'They can take away my power over mortals, but the Labyrinth is still mine. I may no longer be able to fight them, but I can still ensure they won't succeed.'

Aware that what she held was quite fragile, she gently placed the onyx shard back on the ground. Hoggle was watching from not far away, most impressed with the control Sarah seemed to be developing over her mortal magic in such a place where it should have been getting weaker and fading away it was flourishing. He couldn't help but wonder what it was the Labyrinth needed her to see that kept her magic developing. "What is it Sarah?" Hoggle asked.

"Jareth. He smashed the door so that the mortals couldn't reach the castle to challenge him. The Triumvirate, he was thinking about the Triumvirate and how they had taken away his power over mortals, all of them."

The first shadows of night were falling around their feet forcing fear in Hoggle's heart. We've got to get you through this door Sarah, or you've got to return home with me where you'll be safe. We can't take chances that you would so easily survive another night in this Labyrinth."

"I'm not going back now. If I go back then when I return everything will switch itself around. I'm too close to go back now. And Ludo, Hoggle you've got to get Ludo out of that hole before nightfall."

"Well I ain't leavin' you here."

Sarah thought a moment about all she'd done to get to this spot, in the Labyrinth and in life. It had been good to see Sir Didymus and Ludo again and she had loved the warmth of Hoggle's family. If she failed now it would not have been a completely useless venture. Something in her thought of the new faces she'd encountered and the ones she had yet to meet. The good and the bad, the head made of stone and Mason. "Mason," she cried, "I need you."

The goblin appeared before her, trough in one hand, bucket of concrete in the other, "What in the name of the king?"

"Good idea," Hoggle smiled. She really was adapting well.

"How'd I manage that?" Mason was looking all around himself, "See here, now did you pluck me out of my repairs young lady."

Sarah smiled wide happy to see him again and certain that he would help her. "So I did Mason, just more of my magic."

"You're probably the one whose been fixing all my holes. Why I went all they way out to the Labyrinth's edge this morning looking forward to a nice easy day and I wound up trudging back to the center to work on some real whoppers."

So Sarah's magic had worked it's way into the Labyrinth. Even if they didn't get this door fixed, Jareth would find her soon. Better she confront him rather than be found like some sort of prey she wagered. "Mason, I could really use your help with this door."

"What door?"

Hoggle pointed at the ground, "that one."

Mason's fingers loosened from the bucket handle and it fell to the ground in a thud. "Have you gone mad?"

"Mason, we must," Sarah pleaded.

"Well my lady, if we must, then I shall do my best to help you."

"Thank you," she turned to Hoggle. "And you, go and get Ludo back to his corner of this maze and then get home to your family. I've got Mason to look after me and then I have myself a king to find."

The dwarf stood, his hands on his hips, offended that he could be so easily replaced by someone who should have meant very little to her by comparison. He was about to blast her for taking him for granted when sense got the better of him making him realize that her short tongue was equal to the short period of daylight which remained available to her. "Just be careful," he huffed before leaving.

"I will," she told him as a reassuring smile came over her face. He glanced over his shoulder upon hearing her voice and saw the tears that held up in her eyes. It made his feet move faster for fear that he would mirror her if he stayed.

Four hands worked at the pieces with desperation as light got low. It was Sarah who handled most of the pieces, attempting to use her magic to help her guide them into their appropriate position. Mason worked the joint compound into the gaps between each piece. Before long there was a half a door beginning to take shape inside the frame. Seeing their goal taking shape only encouraged them to work harder. Just as it was becoming impossible to tell the difference between the pieces of onyx and the ground, the duo completed their second project together. Sarah smoothed her hands over the door and it seemed to fuse together into the rich black pond it had been in Hoggle's memory. She thanked Mason for his help and inhaled sharply as she grabbed the gold fixture which had appeared on the finished door.

"Are you sure, this is what you want to do Lady Sarah?"

"Sure as I can be." A charming smile lit her face, making her seem so self assured as if she were only going on a leisurely stroll. The door opened with relative ease and the dead end which only hours ago occupied the other side was now a corridor that stretched out before her.

Jareth sat in his bed chamber watching the moon rise. It had been another difficult to visit his mother's tomb and he was wondering why he continued to force himself to go there. His thoughts wandered to all the oddities of late. The daisy on his breakfast tray. The little fox who had seemed awfully jumpy, even more so than usual. And the dwarf. What possessed him to bring his child to the Labyrinth. "Fool!" he let out.

Removing his robe, he took a seat on the edge of his bed watching the moon rise in the sky. Something was wrong. He knew it because he felt tranquil for the first time in years. To most beings that was a welcome relief, to the Goblin King it was like smelling blood on the wind. A heavy sigh escaped him and he thought about settling in early. Slowly he rose and began to turn back the duvet. One of the goblins he sent out on a fact finding mission came running into his chamber unannounced. The king gave him a look of extreme annoyance.

"Your majesty, it's her!"

"Her who?"

"The girl who once ate the peach and forgot everything. She's made her way through the onyx door and is headed into the Goblin City."

"That's not possible!" A wave of his hand and his black silk pajamas were instantly replaced by Jareth's more typical attire. "I smashed that door!" It was as those words feel from his lips that he realized the bigger impossibility. "Sarah Williams could never return to this kingdom." The Goblin King stormed passed the goblin shoving him aside. He attempted to transport to where she was but her words kept him from doing that. Jareth grabbed a crossbow from the armory on his way out of the castle. "Suppose I'll just have to walk then." A crystal orb spun in his palm until it began to glow. Jareth gave it a soft toss in the air and it hovered just above his head lighting the area around and immediately in front of him as he left the castle doors and began charging through the Goblin City shoving or punting at anything that dared to get in his way.

Sarah could still see her hand before her face but just barely, as a kind voice offered her tired feet a welcome ride. She followed the voice until she was able to make out a friendly looking sway backed pony. "I'm sorry," she spoke softly to him stroking his mane, "was it you I heard talking."

"It was," the pony said.

It seemed strange to hear a pony speak to her, even here in the Labyrinth where little surprised her, this had managed to make her feel odd. For a long while she stared at the creature running her fingers through it's thick midnight black hair that mimicked her own.

"It's getting late," the pony reminded her. "I thought you might like a ride into the Goblin City where it would be safer for you to spend the night."

"Well that is the way I was headed. Is it all that much further?" she asked, puzzled because Hoggle indicated that once through the door it wasn't much longer.

"Much, much further than your weary mortal legs can carry you," the creature replied the, tone of his voice filled with concern.

Hoggle had told her not to take things for granted and back in her mortal world they had a saying, 'Don't look a gift horse in the mouth'. Never had one of the Aboveground colloquialisms she grew up with better fit a real life situation. "Do you think you could bear my weight?" After all this creature seemed not much larger than a Shetland variety pony and Sarah was slim, but tall and broad. She carried a bit of weight on her, perhaps more than she'd have cared to admit.

"You're a mouse!" the pony assured her.

"In that case, I accept, but please, what might I call you?"

"You Sarah, may call me Pooka."

'How did he know my name?' Sarah thought. 'I hadn't told him my name.' Then again so many creatures knew of her in the Underground that it shouldn't have been surprising. "Thank you Pooka," she said gratefully as she situated herself on the pony's back.

"Hold tight," he growled

Like a lightning bolt the equestrian began to dart through the remaining maze, Sarah couldn't tell which way they were headed, but a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach told her it wasn't the right way. Pooka whinnied and it echoed in the black of the night. As the ebony skies enveloped her, Sarah began to feel as if she were floating in space. The sky. Pooka. The walls of the Labyrinth were all black, blending together in a dark sea she felt herself drowning in. What had she done now?


	15. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN - TO SLEEP**

Whirling shadows were replaced by the consistent black of the inside of her eyelids as Sarah slammed them shut. It helped the dizziness stay at bay, but the motion sickness was still relatively prevalent. There was chilling silence all around her, nothing echoing in her ears but the wind and even that was so much like white noise that it was virtually silent. She tried to scream, to call for help, but the rushing gusts stole her voice. She wanted to cry but her eyes were dry. Mostly she wanted to be anywhere but where she was and beneath muffled pleas she prayed for someone to save her.

Lost in her own vacuum of regret, it was hard for Sarah to determine which she had become aware of first. Was it the sudden halt in the erratic path of the beast beneath her or the sound of something cutting through the black silence that surrounded her? Either way for a brief second she was thankful that things were still. Her easiness was quickly undone when without warning the Pooka rose high onto its back haunches transforming to a more human visage and sent her careening to the ground. Sarah's head crashed against the stone wall. A few times she was able to blink her eyes, hazily making out the figure of a tall man who wore little more than a loin cloth and bore the head of a beast with enormous horns to either side. His face was gnarled in a grimace of suffering, the source of which Sarah assumed was the arrow which stuck in his side. Blood from the wound ran down the length of him and onto the loin cloth. The Pooka turned on her and began a slow approach. She was too weak to try crawling away. What she really wanted to do was close her eyes. It was the first she'd seen of anything since night fell in the Labyrinth, but she wanted to shut her eyes anyway and dream this terrible nightmare away. The pain in her head grew more intense, but what little medical knowledge she had reminded the mortal that sleeping after a concussion was never a good idea and she struggled to stay alert.

In seconds another form had come to join the looming beast. He wore a black coat that blended him into the night but it was his blonde hair that made him known, lit by the glow of a bobbing crystal. 'Thank God,' Sarah said to herself thinking that the orb must have been what was enabling her to see and not the strange golden halo the head injury seemed to surround everything with. Jareth stood sure of himself a crossbow steadied in his left hand. He didn't need to say a word, his presence was enough to fill the Pooka with fear and make him check over his shoulder.

"Your majesty?" he managed a little shaken.

"Yes Pooka."

"It was you? You who shot me?"

"So it was."

"But your majesty, I was just about to take this mortal to the mire. Did you not smell her in your realm? She reeks of the Aboveground." The beast spoke gruffly, disgust garnishing his words.

"The mortal is mine," the king spoke with a confidence, an authority which made Sarah feel safe.

"Yes," the Pooka hissed. "I see. Tell me your highness, what will we do with her? What have you in mind for this retched little human?" The beast came toward her again, slowly and methodically as if she were to be his prey.

"Back away." Jareth's words were deep and calm.

The Pooka snarled at him, "Have you gone soft?" Lowering his horns he drew back his head preparing to charge at Sarah.

"Back away!"

Another snarl.

Sarah closed her eyes against her better judgment and tried to brace herself for the goring. She never heard the second arrow fire, not the gentle click of the trigger nor the twang of the string nor the hum as it cut through the illuminated corridor. She did not feel the Pooka fall to his knees and then tip forward landing his head across her shins. Unconsciousness had ended Sarah's struggle as quickly as Jareth had ended the Pooka's life.

Folding a gloved hand around one of the beast's horns, Jareth easily lifted the creature's weight from Sarah's legs and tossed him aside. He stooped before her motionless body and for a moment drank her in. Even hurt she was beautiful. Blushed by the rushing wind and stained by her tears, the mortal's cheeks were red and swollen. Her hair fell wild around her face framing it like a pillow and her lips were closed together in perfect symmetry, but they were very pale and it shook Jareth from his hypnotic gaze. His hand rolled gracefully as he attempted to produce a crystal, but none came. He chanted a transportation spell in his mind, but they remained inside the Labyrinth's corridors. "Damn," he cursed remembering that his power over all mortals, especially Sarah was defunct. Quickly Jareth lifted her into his arms with as little effort as he had exerted when he cast the beast aside. Her head came to rest upon his shoulder. Blood stained his coat, a thick tacky gel that had started to clot the wound.

Stride by stride he would walk his mortal back to his castle if that was how it needed to be. Through the corridors of his maze he made his way as he murmured disorganized and random thoughts. "How in the Underground did she even get here? Moron! I'd have been content to leave her rot Aboveground, but that wasn't good enough was it? Not generous enough? Thought she'd come back here and…and…and do what exactly?" He wished she were awake. She had a lot of explaining to do and the king was not a patient fey. "She already has everything of mine there is to give, does she want my kingdom now too! I'll be damned if I let that happen!" He looked down at her pale face, some of the skin already starting to bruise. Even with a healer she would feel great physical pain in the morning. "Humph!" Jareth snorted. "That's nothing compared to what she's done to me and my kingdom." He thought awhile about all she had done, denying him – twice, the damage it had inflicted on the kingdom, the great holes left within the Labyrinth and within its king. "So that's your game is it child?" In comparison to Jareth, Sarah was still very much a child. "You wish to see the Goblin King once more so that you might twist your serpentine blade another time. I'm afraid I cannot allow that."

They had reached the onyx door, the one Jareth had smashed himself when he last returned from the Aboveground. The king met the mismatched eyes of his reflection in the polished finish. "Why are you doing this?" he asked the mirror image. He thought about the Shadow King, his evil side, the one he was made to face when he was trying to escape the Labyrinth. Perhaps he had taken over a little more of Jareth than the Goblin King cared to admit. As his gloved fingers fed through the golden handle of the door he admitted to himself that he was not the same fey who would have carried her off to heal and seduce her, not the same fey whose heart jumped to see her back in the Labyrinth. That fey was locked deep inside him now. It had to be. Everyone was right, he needed to move on and that was the only way. "She needs to answer for what she's done." Jareth's voice was low and husky, the bitterness of it stunk in the air that held his words. More than the Labyrinth had changed.

Goblins plagued him as the king made his way through their city. Jareth shouted at them and they cowered in the shadows where the orb could not light. The heal of a leather boot kicked against the castle door, flinging it open. He marched inside. Sarah's body had yet to stir in the time it had taken them to reach Jareth's domicile. Her arms and legs shook a bit as he ran up the stairs, but it was involuntary on her part. Halfway up the semicircular stairwell the king began to call for Arulan.

Early morning hours were not the elf's best. "Yes, your majesty," she called through a yawn.

"Get the healer," he shouted to her as he burst through his chamber door.

"What's happened?" Arulan tied her robe close around her body and wiped at her tired eyes. From her vantage point she couldn't exactly tell if it was his highness who was hurt or if he yelled out to acquire assistance for another.

Jareth stood beside his bed, bending to lay Sarah's body gently in the softness of the velvet duvet. Good glory, he had dreamt about this, envisioned her lying in his bed the way she did now, only with less blood and more consciousness. Now was no time for letting those old emotions run away with him. "A Pooka. She took a ride from a Pooka. I shot the damned thing, it bucked up on two legs and sent her for quite a tumble," he explained to his servant, brushing away some of the hairs that had matted themselves to Sarah's face.

"Jareth? Is that?" Her question was open ended as it was meant be. Arulan was hoping that her king would deny it. Tell her this was some new mortal. A fey's eye could never hide the truth from another mythical. The dark hair, the way he looked at her unable to hide all of his longing completely, the gentle way he set her down. This was his mortal. Jareth met Arulan's questioning gaze with his own raised eyebrows. "That's Sarah isn't it?"

"Get the healer. She's been hurt?"

"Jareth, even if I were to summon the healer, what good would it do her?" Arulan was at his side her hands resting gently on his arm in an attempt to be comforting as she continued to implore him. "She's mortal sire. Nothing here can save her."

The king shook loose of the elf's hold and removed his coat. Blood covered a large patch of the right lapel and shoulder, his mortal's blood. Her scent permeated the entire garment. Blonde locks parted at the mercy of the king's fingers, his mind torn between wanting rid of her and wanting her to be his once more. A memory stirred within him of another child, one he inadvertently let die years ago. Jareth couldn't do that, not again, not to her. Arulan was right though. Not even the most talented healer could save a mortal. There were boundaries that could not be crossed. Lines that in millennia no one could figure out how to erase. 'Christ,' he thought, 'there has to be something, anything I can do.' Sarah was repairing the Labyrinth, she possessed mortal magic, that had to count for something.

Arulan reached out to Sarah, her palm resting lightly on her forehead. The mortal's flesh was hot to the touch, around her mouth blisters were beginning to form. "Water Jareth, get her a glass of water."

Tossing the jacket aside he went into the bathroom and filled a glass with cold water. His hand jutted out toward the elf offering her the glass. Focused on doing what she could to dress the mortal's wounds, Arulan was unaware of is gesture. "Here," he said his tone short.

"For pity's sake Jareth, I'm busy. Help her drink the water."

Sarah's chin was already tilted upward so that Arulan could tend to her head injury. He looked from the glass to her face and back again as if he was somehow unable to figure out how to get her the water. "Why are you bothering to dress the wound?"

"We can't just let her die. We've got to try, right? I mean that is what you want isn't it? You want her to live because you still love her."

"I want her to live so that I can take her to the Triumvirate and so they can send her home." His long fingers cradled her chin as the glass met with her lips and Jareth emptied he water into her mouth.

"Say what you will, but I know better. Know you better, always have, probably better than you know yourself," Arulan told him.

It was condescending the way she dared to speak to him, full of presumption. Mesmerized by the way Sarah's lips rocked against the glass thirsty for the liquid inside, Jareth's mind drifted. He sighed audibly and closed his eyes. For a moment he wished he were made of glass, if for no other reason then to have those lips rock against him that way, but that was a moment that seemed centuries ago now. Realization drove his voice as he spoke softly to Arulan, "The mortal holds a piece of my soul."

Stopping her crude patch job the elf searched his majesty's face. "Were you intimate with this mortal?"

He did not reply. Jareth drew the glass from her lips unable to tolerate the agony any longer. Shaking hands made it obvious he was less than focused as he set the glass on the bedside table. I said, the mortal holds a piece of my soul, now," his words slid between the spaces of his jagged teeth, "call for the healer."

"Mercy on the mythicals," Arulan muttered as she skittered off to get the healer.

"Still causing me grief after all these years, love," the king whispered when his servant was across the threshold and out of earshot. "We'll soon put an end to that, won't we?"

Moments later, Arulan returned, Jareth's personal healer in tow. The healer wore a purple hooded robe tied about the waist by a black braided rope from which several pouches hung. It was nearly impossible to see his face, but even if it had been easily visible, it would not have been impressive. His magic was in his hands which were currently resting on Sarah's forehead. "Ah," he began in a voice that deceived his persona for it was small and weak and too high for someone who had captured such great power, "I see you bring me to a mortal your highness."

Refusing to defend himself to someone who essentially worked for him, Jareth leaned against a far wall, coolly balanced on one leg, the other bent back so that the sole of his boot met the wall. "Do whatever it is you do healer and be on your way."

Seemingly undaunted by the king's apparent displeasure, the cloaked fey continued reciting his analysis of Sarah's condition, "My but what a strong will she has and rightly so for this is no ordinary mortal. I sense magic in this one, magic and the soul of a fey." He was too old to play games and his yellow eyes shone in the black cover of his cloak as he narrowed them at Jareth.

The Goblin King's patience had been tested enough for one day and he conveyed that when his eyes met the healer's, remaining locked with them as he crossed the room to stand beside the fey in the purple cloak. "It is my soul you sense, but you seem to be ignoring my anger. You have seen me many times over the years my friend, in health, in pain and near death, please do not tell me that you forget what it is like to see me angry."

Without question or comment, the healer returned to his work on Sarah. Jareth stepped back to give him room. Arulan stood back in the shadows still aghast over all that had transpired. "She's has quite the bump on her head, but I believe with the treatment I've given her, a few days rest and some medication," he dared once more to catch the eye of his king, "your mortal should make a full recovery."

Licking his parched lips Jareth sneered at him in a way that indicated his services were appreciated and yet no longer needed. It was Arulan who stepped up to his side and began to guide him out of the king's chambers. "Ah, not so fast, I must first mix the medicine."

"You may use my bath," waving his hand he opened the door wide.

"Thank you your grace."

Arulan accompanied the healer in case he would require any assistance. Jareth was alone with his mortal. Already the color was returning to her face. That was a positive sign, one that made him almost feel bad about getting her well before unleashing the Triumvirate on her. 'This is precious,' he thought. 'They'll berate her for entering our world, most probably punish her, send her home and forbid her to return and I won't have to soil so much as a glove in any of it.' "You've made it so easy for me," he hissed into her ear, "for a change."

And yet it wasn't easy at all, for all that he had done she was reaching the parts of him he had locked away and tried to deny. There was no way for him to completely destroy the part of his heart she held, no way for him to rip back the part of his soul he had shared with her. Soon she would recover, a couple of days the healer had told them and then it would end. Once the Triumvirate had their say he would never see Sarah Williams again and then maybe, in time, enough of it, he would forget. Even if forgetting the sweet smell of her, the intoxication of her touch and the melody of her kiss seemed impossible to him now he had to believe it would eventually fade. Although in fifteen years it had only managed to grow. Jareth caught himself wondering how long ignorance took to come when longing seemed to arrive so quickly.

Arulan and the healer emerged from the king's bath to disrupt his reverie with instructions on how to administer the medication. The healer handed Jareth three pills. "Give her the white tab in one hour, when first she stirs she must take the green tab and lastly when she awakens the blue. Do you understand?"

The Goblin King shook his head and set the pills next to the glass of water on the night stand. 'White, green, blue,' he repeated to himself. The elf again led the healer to the door.

Ever the antagonist he queried the king before his departure, "You must feel very strongly for the girl to risk bringing her to the Underground?"

"I didn't bring her here."

"Then you must be very afraid."

Jareth turned to face the man who insisted on salting his wounds, "How do you suppose?"

"A mortal with powers enough to come Underground and here you are a king with no power over her. Once she's well again, should you need my services Jareth, you know where to find me." Despite being in the servitude of the Goblin King the healer laughed, a vengeful chuckle that echoed in the room even after he had left.

On a better day, one in which he hadn't been suffering from such an extreme amount of mental exhaustion he would have taught the insubordinate rat a lesson. Perhaps even seen to it that the mighty healer would soon require his own services, but today had been a long one and in truth, there was nothing he had said that was not fact. Perceptive as she had always been, Arulan rejoined her master's side. "There's nothing more you can do for her. Go and take a bath, wash her blood from your hair. I'll stay here to watch her."

Until she said something, he hadn't noticed the ends of his blond locks which had been stained orange with his mortal's life force. He closed his eyes and tried to suppress the nausea that rose in his stomach before meeting Arulan's stare. "You don't mind?" She shook her head side to side still wanting to ask him if he had slept with the girl, if that was how she had taken a part of his soul but knowing that this was not the time. Jareth made his way to the bathroom door, his boots sliding across the marble floor, his legs too weary to make them step. From inside the door frame the king looked back at his servant and then to this bed where the sleeping mortal lie, finally once more at Arulan and closed the door behind him.

Magic came in handy when one was overwhelmed with exhaustion. A mere flick of the wrist, a wave of the hand and clothes were shed without having to undo any of their bothersome fastenings. Water ran without bending to turn the faucet. Jareth slipped himself into the tub and sunk down to his chin. Sarah's blood, made liquid by the heat, pooled through his bath. It fascinated him as it wove crimson streams into the clear water, dancing before his eyes like wind blew desert sands or winter snows. Mortality had never much concerned him. The Triumvirate had eased him of that burden long ago when they took the only son of the Leanan Sidhe and christened him, turned him immortal, gave him his jagged teeth and lack of emotion, baptized him fey. 'What a chore it must be to be mortal,' he thought. It made him regret never knowing his father. Perhaps if he had known Ian, he could have been the generation that led the revolution towards accepting mortals. He could have been truly noble and not just Goblin King, nobility by title alone. Fantasies lulled him to dream.

Jareth's head swam with images of ones he had never met. Fey, goblins, mythicals of all sorts and in the center of the grove these breeds gathered around a high back wicker chair in which his mother sat, her arms filled with a well bundled child. The child smiled up at his mother, his mismatched eyes starring into her soul conveying all the love he could not yet speak of, all the appreciation for giving him live, all the admiration of beauty he did not understand. She gazed back at him, tears in her eyes, a smile on her lips as they moved forming words he could hear, not that the child understood them, but Jareth wished he could hear. Her long thin fingers stroked the child's velvet scalp and there was a feeling of warmth that filled them all. Jareth too. The crowd was humming with whispers. 'Isn't he stunning.' 'She's positively glowing.' From way in the back a man began to separate the gatherers. 'Excuse me. Pardon me. I'm very sorry,' he could be heard shouting. At last he broke through the inner circle and fell to his knees before his wife and child. In his hand a bouquet of wild flowers. He gave them to his wife and lifted the child from her arms. 'In my world we have a great book written about a little boy who never grew up and learned to live and love among the mythicals. It was written that, 'when the first baby laughed for the first time, the laugh broke into a thousand pieces and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies.' The child in his arms laughed and the air about them began to fill with small fairies and sprites. The more he laughed, the more appeared and some of them broke into giggles too. Suddenly it grew dark all around them and everyone grew silent. The man who held the child fell to his knees. The baby tumbled into his terrified mother's arms. Ian's face twisted in pain as he drew his last breath before tumbling forward to the ground. Leanan Sidhe handed the child to an elf, 'Take the child from me,' she instructed.

Jareth bolted up in the tub, the water now like ice around him. He reminded himself that it was but a dream. His father had never held him. None of them had ever shared a warm moment like the one he was envisioning in all of his life although part of him wished they had. What reward did mortality offer? It was difficult being left with the idea that love would only lead to pain and death, loss and grief, but such was the lot of the Goblin King. He reheated the water and summoned a scrub brush and some lye. Vigorously the king rubbed the bristles across his pale chest leaving behind wide red streaks. His skin welcomed the relief when he finished his bathing and sunk beneath the water so that he might wash his hair. Jareth looked out of place when his mane was low and close to his scalp. Sitting in the tub, slumped over, his face long with exhaustion and that hair matted over his ears, he looked like a sorrowful wet kitten who hadn't a home. Rising from the tub, he motioned his wrist, commanding his magic to dry and dress him.

Back in the bed chamber, dressed in his silk black pajamas he looked at the two woman he'd left almost an hour ago. Sarah was still under the spell of her very deep sleep. The healer had folded the duvet over her so that she was sandwiched inside it's velvety softness. Her fever had broken when he laid his hands on her and there was no sense allowing her to catch a chill that might impede the healing process. Arulan was bent awkwardly in a chair facing Sarah. She had intended to watch over her, but sleep had claimed her too, only she didn't have that same easy peacefulness about her that the mortal did, not in that position for sure. Jareth approached Arulan with great caution, not wanting to frighten her into a fall that would land him with two feeble women in his bed. The thought of which made his lips curl up slightly in a devilish way before the thought fled as quickly as it had taken root.

"Arulan," he whispered as a gloved hand shook her shoulder gently. Jareth's bed gloves were as black as his pajamas and likewise made of silk with a wool lining that made them seem a bit more substantial and less like the gloves a bride or a prom queen might wear.

The elf's eyes fluttered open. Immediately she began to profess, "I swear your highness, I was watching her."

"I know," he replied flatly. "Come now, my bath has given me renewed energy," he lied. "I shall watch the mortal until morning, in case she stirs and requires more of the tabs left by the healer. You go rest. Tomorrow I will very much need your assistance as I will need to tend to the regular business of the Labyrinth. No one else must know of the mortal's arrival." If only the king had known just how many were already well aware.

Arulan rose to her feet and moved to leave the room her legs shaky as any rag doll's and she didn't acknowledge Jareth at all. She would wait until she was more coherent to confront his majesty.

When Arulan had left them, the king went to the bedside table and picked up the white tablet the healer had left behind. He placed it delicately between her pink lips, like replacing a pearl inside a tender clam, and then poured the water as he massaged her throat to make certain that she had ingested the medication. It seemed a shame just then that she couldn't have done as he had asked her all that time ago. Fear him, love him, do as he said and circumstances would be so very different now. Jareth walked to the fireplace and ignited it. With a long sweep of his arm, he snatched a blanket from the back of the couch and settled into the chair Arulan had occupied earlier. He slid the throw around his shoulders and folded it over knees. There was no comfort to be had from the chair, but the king couldn't keep an eye on her, couldn't watch for those first stirrings from the couch. For a minute he thought about sliding into the bed beside Sarah where it was soft and inviting. Better judgment took over and he accepted that things were as they were.

Watching his mortal proved to be quite the obstacle. He couldn't help but notice her undeniable attractiveness, her hair, her lips, her hands, everything about her that made him fill with desire. He reminded himself of her insatiable cruelty, her denial, her mockery, her selfishness. Jareth stayed the course nonetheless as hour after hour he searched the mortal for even the slightest twitch.

Just before dawn, when the Goblin King's eyes were growing heavy to the point of sometimes falling shut for an instant, Sarah's body arched, her head tipping back and a tiny moan came from deep in her throat. Jareth rose from his chair, every joint of his body stiff from his long night. Casting the blanket aside, he once more stood at the bedside table. For a moment he debated which pill he was to give her next, but with his blood recirculating the answer came easily. Black silk gloves circled the green tablet and brought it to Sarah's lips, once more tucking it inside. This time her mouth responded to what she felt, moving to accept the pill. Jareth quickly followed with the water for fear that her dryness might cause her to choke or her haze make her think to try chewing the tablet.

Thirst made Sarah gulp at the drink she was being offered until the glass was empty. It concerned the king a little as he wasn't sure how exactly a patient with such an injury should behave. For a series of long moments she continued to fidget. Jareth slid into the bed next to her tossing a protective arm over her thrashing body in an attempt to ensure her some sort of safety. Soon she grew still but for her arms which pushed back the velvet duvet until it covered the king. Sarah curled on her side, her closed eyes even with Jareth's, nothing between them but the thick, rich fabric. One arm stretched out between the bent arm that was supporting his head, her fingers absently attempting to stroke his golden hair. Her waist was still weighted by his protective arm. Sarah's eyes opened little more than a slit as her lips parted and she whispered, "Jareth."

It stunned him at first, to hear her call to him in such a desperate way. He couldn't help but to drink her in, the beautifully still perfection of her. The Goblin King slid from the bed the same way he'd slid in, tossing the duvet back over Sarah and tucking it in around her the way it had been earlier. With one last long look, Jareth made his way to the sunken sitting area. Fatigue and stiffness had left him entirely. Taking a seat on one of the large couches, he stared into the fire in eager anticipation of the sunrise for the first time in quite a long while.

Half past nine in the morning, Arulan reentered her majesty's chamber to find him admiring the flames. "Did you sleep with her?"

Jareth's head scanned the room on a slow pan before meeting his servant's eye, "What did you just ask me?"

"You heard me, did you sleep with her?"

"In her condition I think that would have been less than honorable, don't you?"

"Quit trying to quash the topic. You admit she holds a piece of your soul, Jareth. How did it happen?"

The king beckoned her closer. She sat facing him leaning in on her knees allowing her face to be basked by the fire light. "First I found her Aboveground. I followed her at a fair distance doing my best to remain undiscovered. Eventually she led me back to her to her apartment. Until I joined her on the elevator she wasn't the least bit suspicious. Cunning fey that I am I had disguised my appearance. I stalked her down the hall. As you might imagine she was beginning to get a bit nervous and so rather than walk she ran and when she did, that the scarf she was wearing fell to the ground. I snatched it up." Jareth made a snatching motion with his hands. Arulan let out a gasp. The king smiled wickedly before continuing, "When she got to her door, she fumbled for her keys and that's when I really saw my chance. I looped the scarf around her neck," the Goblin King leaned into Arulan, his eyes wide and his teeth bared, "forced her inside her apartment. A mortal could never match my strength Arulan, it was all rather easy in hindsight. I didn't even bother with learning where her chambers were. Instead I had my way with her right there on the floor, just inside the entrance."

The elf closed her eyes and turned her head away a delicate hand raised to her mouth in shock.

"Do you really think me capable of such things?" He looked at her with a grave disappointment on his face.

She met his expression with a regretful one of her own. For a moment she had thought exactly that. More and more so these days she thought him capable of anything, still his tone made her feel ashamed for thinking it.

"You do."

"If you and she have never slept with one another, than how?"

"Since you insist on forcing me into proving my innocence, I will admit to nothing more than a kiss."

"Must have been some kiss then."

"Indeed it was," he confided. The pace of his heart quickened at the recollection of there lips joined together, hands moving in a fevered passion, listening to her speak his name and the way that she confessed to him she 'was no longer young'.

Arulan watched him, his heart's truth curling the corners of his lips, "You do still love the girl."

"I once loved the girl. Now it will bring me as much pleasure to see her leave as it once had to anticipate her arrival." Regardless of whether he believed that, it had to be true for he refused to open his heart again only to find Sarah would continue to refuse him.

"I apologize for what I thought before," the elf said weakly as she moved to sit beside her king. Her small hands embracing one of his. "It must be awful denying yourself true love."

Jareth tore his glove from her embrace, "I think we both know I don't much deny myself the company of women."

"Their company yes, but you've never exchanged souls with any other creature Jareth, not as long as I've known you. Not until this mortal." Her eyes looked at him with doubt and suspicion.

"We've not shared souls. There is nothing of her in me. Perhaps as I have gotten older, I have gotten careless Arulan. This is not a topic which I particularly wish to continue discussing." Irritation was not an emotion which remained well hidden in the king.

Slowly his servant moved to brush a few stray hairs behind her master's ear, "You poor thing. You look as though you haven't slept all night."

"I've gone days without sleep before, one night won't matter, but soon I must begin the regular business of this kingdom and I would very much appreciate your remaining behind to see that Sarah gets the last of her medication."

"Done." Arulan threw her arms around Jareth in a compassionate embrace, an exchange not normally engaged in. Yet even in all the awkwardness of it, the king did find comfort. Only with his servant was he finally able to admit to what he felt without having to utter one word. For a quick second he allowed the silk of his gloves to pat on her shoulders as he returned her affection.

"I don't mean to keep the two of you from whatever it is that you're doing or needs doing," the small voice barely louder than a whisper came from the enormous bed. Sarah had awakened and was struggling to sit up so she could lean against the massive headboard.

Once more Jareth thanked the Supreme One he had his magic, even if it had been reduced by the Triumvirate. A gentle rolling motion of the wrist and he was wearing his daily attire, his hair suddenly full and styled rather than limp and close to his scalp. He indicated to Arulan that she should go and care for her. "Perhaps his majesty would like to speak to the girl?"

"No, I believe I will let the two of you be."

"Please," Sarah spoke, but the dryness of being asleep so long had stolen her words.

Arulan rushed to her bedside, handing her the glass from the stand, but it was empty. "Pardon miss," she said rushing to the bath to refill the glass. Sarah just stared at Jareth unable to say a word. He returned her gaze as sullenly, only without the benefit of an alibi for his silence. "Here you are then. Drink up."

The weary mortal tried to sip the water, each drop provided more relief in her tightened throat. Sips gave way to gulps and those were giving her a terrible seasick feeling in her stomach. Sarah grimaced and handed the glass back to Arulan. Noticing the face she made Jareth moved closer, but only by a few steps before he wiped the concerned look from his eyes and mouth to replace it with one of indifference. "See that she gets the last pill." Once more he turned to leave.

"Don't go," Sarah asked of him. "I don't even remember how I got here. I was riding a horse and the next thing I knew..." Her voiced trailed off, "I don't know what happened, but I heard your voices and woke up here."

"You weren't riding a horse, you were riding a Pooka." Jareth revealed to her what he thought should have been rather obvious.

"A what?"

"Sarah, I haven't time to play explanatory games with you. I have a kingdom to run. This is my servant Arulan," the king indicated the elf at her bedside. "She will tend to whatever it is you need." He wrapped a gloved hand around the handle to the door and swung it open.

"Will I see you later?" 'Christ that sounded desperate,' Sarah thought as she slunk back down inside the folds of the duvet.

"I suppose we'll have to discuss a few things with one another at some point." Jareth never turned around to offer the reply, never even glanced back, just kept going on through the door as he intended until he was in the hall and had shut the large wooden partition behind him.

Behind the huge mahogany desk the king should have looked small; however, he didn't. Even surrounded by a ring of giants, Jareth would stand out, emitting confidence that supplemented his size. The quill in his hand tapped against the ledger, creating an ink blot in the margin as he stared off into space. His office was dim, the curtains closed, the furniture all dark. Occasionally he'd light the torches, if necessary, otherwise the dark suited him. Unable to keep his mind from wandering back to the mortal, the ordinary business of the Labyrinth fell to the wayside.

Every morning he made a journal entry for the previous day. There was a time when Jareth kept up with his entries, writing the same day events occurred, sometimes making multiple entries in the same day. Often he regretted that the diligence with which he once wrote had been broken. Yesterday, for example, a mythical had died by his own hand inside his Labyrinth, his realm had been invaded by a mortal and he had been kept waiting by all but one of the sixteen goblins he'd sent on the fact finding mission to the Underground's four sectors. It was a busy day indeed, yet his pen did not write. Other than to continue the rhythmic tapping, he did not stir at all.

The clock on the wall began o chime eleven. Having been practically catatonic since he entered the room, this was the first thing to shake Jareth from his trance. His day was wasting away, he decided as he looked at the filigree hands grazing the cream face of the slender grandfather clock. Suddenly visible to his blind eye, was a huge spot which had soaked through several pages of the king's open journal. A wave of his finger and the smudge disappeared. He hated when things were messy. Re-wetting the quill he began the entry for yesterday:

November 5, 2001

This night in the Labyrinth has been unlike any other. The day had begun ordinarily enough. No complaints from the Representatives, no orders from the Triumvirate. One of the goblins I sent out to spy on the sectors for me returned with some news. Mind you, he never made it to the Northeastern sector where he had been assigned with the rest of his troop, but instead fell asleep and became lost in the Labyrinth. At least he didn't come back empty handed. It would seem Mason is doing a fabulous job repairing the maze. Nearly all of the outer most layers have been restored. I find it remarkable that he has been able to work so quickly and take full credit for having the foresight to hire him to complete the job. One thing about Mason's work vexes me. It would seem he's taken to not only repairing the Labyrinth walls, but also trimming back the overgrowth and I suspect he may even be planting new vegetation. These were not on my list of commands. If he continues to waste resources this way, I will need to speak with him.

Along those lines, the onyx doorway leading to the Goblin City has been repaired. Much as I wish I could blame him, there is no conceivable way Mason could be responsible. The door was fey forged and only a fey could repair it. The minion who returned to me with news today swears that he knows nothing of the door or the thing responsible for reconstructing it. I can hope only that my other goblins return with news of the who and how, so that they may be dealt with appropriately.

This evening I took supper in the courtyard. It too is showing signs of growth, color and vitality. How odd? After all, it is now well into the sunny season and vegetation should begin to wane in anticipation of the cloudy season's arrival in just under one moon. While I did think in somewhat strange, I did not trouble myself with it.

Just before I was to retire, my goblin informant returned to my chambers. It would seem as though the mortal of some years ago, the one my kingdom has labeled the Legend, was somehow able to reenter this realm. It was extremely inconvenient having my powers usurped, not being able to transport to her location, having to walk like a common mortal. When at last I was able to locate her, the idiotic child had taken a ride from a Pooka. Thank the Supreme One I had the foresight to bring along a crossbow for defense. I fired a shot into his rib, attempting to halt him; however, he had no intention of departing until the mortal was dead. I then fired a second, iron tipped bolt into his heart. The result, death (such death to have occurred at 9:37 pm this day).

I was most sorrowful to have killed a creature of the Underground, but it is my duty as king to bring all mortals to the Triumvirate to be dealt with in order to protect this land from the savagery of the raids which plagued us long ago. Far be it for me to go against them for fear that they will deny me more than they already have. The mortal returned to my castle and my healer was called upon to treat her injuries, which were extensive. She remained unconscious most of the night. (Note: the mortal had awakened on the morning of which I transcribe this day's events, November 6th, prior to my leaving for the office.) I must now, in compliance with the wishes of the Triumvirate, call upon them and request a meeting concerning the mortal, Sarah Williams, and her prompt return Aboveground.

So it is written in the history of the Labyrinth for this day,

King Jareth

He reread his entry to be sure that he had included all the day's events. Sure he had left out a few things, personal things, but historically it was accurate – enough. He closed the journal and shoved it aside, then returned the quill to its well. Leaning back in his chair, Jareth rested his head in the interlaced fingers of his hands and studied the ceiling. Fifteen years had past and yet it seemed like so much longer while she was gone. Now that she had returned, it seemed like only yesterday. Time was quite a tricky thing the king decided. From one of his book cases he summoned an old journal. It lay itself open on his desk, the ink had begun to fade, but it was still very legible as he skimmed what he had written:

...This night I have been summoned to the Aboveground by another mortal who is all too tired of some child. My crystal tells me that she is very beautiful with long hair and eyes of green. Can you imagine? I have consulted with a seer about the mortal and am told that I am destined for this one. I must agree. From the moment I was made aware of her, my heart has been weakened. I could not resist giving her a touch of magic, nothing very powerful, just the ability to have wishes granted. The seer tells me that she will both complete and completely unravel me. Sometimes I think she speaks in riddles for the effect. She tells me that I shall not have the child, as if I have ever been bested, but that I shall have the girl. I cannot understand how this could be and so I chalk it up to more of her doublespeak.

The child's name is Toby. He will make a particularly wise mythical. I think I'll suggest the Triumvirate christen him Jareth, after all, he has my eyes, well, one of them anyway. He seems quite contented here in my world, happy to sit on my lap or dance with the goblins. I think they amuse him. Toby whiles the hours away plying with crystals as though they were ordinary balls, meant for children's amusements. Yes, he will make a fine addition to the Underground...

...I have watched the mortal in her struggles through my maze. She is remarkably resilient, surviving the oubliette, continuing to hunt for me despite the warnings she has been given and the distractions I have made for her. It makes me respect her, for she is a formidable opponent, the best I have had in a while. As the seer warned, I do find myself growing smitten with the girl, I will have my chemist draw up a potion which I shall use to reveal her truest wishes. How will I get it to her? Of course! I will use the half wit dwarf who she seems to have taken a liking too...

...Glory to the Supreme One. She took the present I sent her. I am pleased to find her true wishes are somewhat deviant and far more mature than I would have guessed it to be for a mortal girl her age. As you might expect, I was able to satisfy her desires. I merely arranged for a masquerade. It was nothing really, just something I threw together. I had my fun eluding her at first, but when at last I was able to capture her in my arms, I must admit to a certain leaping in my chest. I feel things I have never felt before, suddenly I am generous, suddenly I am weak. I fear I am in love...

...My elation was not to last very long. She tore herself from my grip when the clock began to strike. I begged her with my eyes to stay, but she was erratic and wild, showing much more of her real age. Now her surroundings seemed to shock her. She tried to deny that it was what she had wanted. She shattered the illusion before I could so much as kiss her hand.

I trembled when we were alone together with the child in the unreality room. I tried to profess my love for her, but I fear she does not understand my words. I offered her everything, all her wants, her dreams, forever. My foolish heart sung to her with all its naive promises and yet, she chose the child. "Fear me," I begged. "Love me," I pleaded. "And I will be your slave," I promised. Then I watched in torment as the perfect lips I thirsted for spat out the hateful words, "You have no power over me." And so my kingdom sits in great disarray, its king fallen victim to the disease of love. Not even the most powerful healer is capable of curing this ache inside me. I curse myself as much as I curse her. She was but a child, I should have known better and yet, I had no choice...

..I've fired the seer. Whatever gift she had is obviously ruined now. I think I shall remain in this room forever or at least until I am able to forget this girl. I am no king worthy of being seen or heard. I shall never love. I shall never have an heir. If I did, I'd rescind the throne immediately, for without this girl, this beauty who has captured by heart, I am nothing. I wonder if a fey is capable of being entrapped one piece at a time. If so, I fear this mortal has begun collecting me.

So it is written in the history of the Labyrinth this day,

King Jareth

Jareth slammed the book closed and flung it across his office. Had he really written such things, in ink, where anyone with access to the logs could see? 'Love was a disease,' he thought, 'One from which he would never be cured, but one from which he refused to admit he suffered.'

Rather than spend anymore time getting in touch with his feelings, the Goblin King began to sort through his mail. There was a letter from Gandor requesting that Jareth intervene and work out some arrangement between he and Elbereth, the Representative of the Northwest sector, so that Gandor would be able to have fresh water for his people. The king released an exasperated sigh just as the fifteen missing spies burst into his office. "Can I help you?" he asked irritated at the interruption.

"Your majesty, we bring you the information which you seek," one of the group leaders said.

"Well then, by all means, come in." Jareth's tone had changed. From a corner of his desk he grabbed a notepad and drew his quill once more. Across the top page he drew two lines dividing the sheet into four fairly equal squares. "Who has traveled to the Northwest?"

The goblin stepped forward. "These lands are in a great drought, a heat wave ravages all who live there."

Jareth ripped Gandor's letter in two before discarding it. This was starting to be fun. "And Elebereth?"

"Elbereth is indifferent to you, your majesty, although he does not believe you're doing enough to help the sectors in your kingdom."

"Hmpf!" Jareth made a few notes on the pad. When he was through, he looked up and asked, "Which of you visited the Northeast?" Another goblin stepped forward. "Speak," the king commanded.

"This land is frigid. Waves break against the shore with enough force to break rocks and yet, Ranofyr remains unphased. He and his people thrive as much now as they ever have."

"Yes well, that always was a sector filled with a rather cheerful bunch of masochists." Again the king made a few notes. "Tiberon. Whom among you surveyed Tiberon's sector?"

A third goblin separated himself from the crowd. "'T'was I king."

"What news do you bring me?"

"These lands have been overgrown for some time your majesty. Word comes straight from the dwarf, Hoggle, who is also a resident in this sector. Yet, your majesty, when I visited, in great stealth, I saw clear cut paths jutting in every direction through the wood, the trees filled with singing birds, even a meadow of wild flowers. Rumor has it that Tiberon plans to court a woman, my liege, perhaps his carefree heart has broken the spell over his land."

Jareth leaned over his desk grabbing the goblin, "Do you think me mad?" The goblin stood petrified within the king's grasp shaking his head methodically from side to side. "Then what makes you think I would ever," his hand came crashing down upon the desk, "ever give a Representative that kind of power? You moron!" The king shoved him backward and the minion tumbled head over heals, until the wall broke his momentum.

"Of course your highness. Why would a most glorious king, such as you are, allow that to happen? I don't know what I was thinking. Forgive me sire?" he stammered holding his head.

"Kiss ass!" Jareth turned to face the last of the goblins who had an expedition, "I don't give a damn who Tiberon's courting, so unless you have something significant to tell me, leave!"

"Your majesty, Gandor's Southwestern sector was frozen over when I first arrived there; however, within two days, he temperature had increased enough to melt the ice which prevented water from flowing.

"Is that all?"

"No your majesty. Gandor also had dinner guests."

"You're jesting?" the king asked in mock enthusiasm. "Did they put their elbows on the table?" The goblin just stared, completely unaware that such a gesture was considered a social faux pas. "Get out!" cried the king after a moment, "Get out! Get out! Get out!"

The entourage fled the room as hastily as they had entered, each grumbling about Jareth as they left.

"What's wrong with him?"

"He's the one who asked us to go."

"He's upset because your mentioned Tiberon courting a woman."

"So?"

"So, I heard his mortal has returned."

"You think he'd be happy."

"She rejected him again."

"Again?"

"Again."

Their feet moved double time when they head the Goblin King shout, " I can still hear you!"

"Don't you mind him any miss," Arulan said as she handed the blue tablet to Sarah. "Drink this down."

She looked suspiciously at the pill in the elf's pale finger tips. "What is it?"

"Just the last of the medication the healer ordered for you."

"The healer?"

"Yes, the Underground's version of what you mortals call doctors." Arulan's explanation was met with a vacant stare. "Perhaps it's best if you just continue resting." She moved to wrap the blankets back around the girl.

Sarah rose her hands in protest, "Why would you need to call a doctor? Was I sick?"

"No miss, not exactly." Arulan was stuttering as she often did when her nerves got the better of her. "You see the Pooka you were riding, well miss, they are not kind creatures. His highness killed the beast and you took a nasty fall. The healer said it was a concussion, but you had a raging fever and we couldn't wake you."

"What are these Pooka creatures? One of Jareth's tricks?"

"No miss. They are a mythical with an agenda all their own. They whisk off unsuspecting travelers, usually very weary ones, and run them madly through the land ready to drop them off in a mire and leave them for dead. His highness saved you miss."

"How did I get here?"

"Miss?" Had Arulan not just described to her the situation.

"Please call me Sarah," she rose a hand to her head as she tried to comprehend what she had been through. "I was in the Labyrinth when I was with this creature. How did I get to the castle? I am in the castle aren't I?"

"Indeed. His majesty carried you here late last night after your accident."

"Carried me?"

"Yes miss. Sarah."

A new kind of confusion wrinkled her brow. "Odd that he would go through so much trouble to see to my safety and then not even speak to me this morning."

"His majesty had a very long night," Arulan was about to tell her that Jareth spent the entire night without sleep, watching over her. Instead, she came out with something that she was sure would have better pleased the king, "Not sleeping in his own bed was extremely uncomfortable for him."

"Oh," Sarah said suddenly feeling like a terrible bother. "Well I won't keep him from his bed another night." She swung her feet over the edge of the mattress and attempted to struggle to her feet. What forced her back into the bed was hard to say for the churning stomach and the spinning head were equally off balancing. Closing her eyes she waited for the nausea to pass and the room around her to come to a stand still.

Arulan rushed to her side, eager to serve the woman who held the heart and soul of her king. "You'll be going nowhere." She tucked Sarah back beneath the duvet.

Sighing she accepted the elf's mothering and in truth was content to be back in bed. "Is there some other place we could put me up then? I don't think I should be staying in Jareth's bed."

"His majesty wouldn't have it any other way. He wants for you to make a full recovery."

"Why, so he can ask me for his magic back?"

Somewhat shocked by her outburst Arulan couldn't help asking, "So you are aware you hold his highness' soul?"

Sarah nodded twice before the spinning sensation came rushing back to her temples, "Yes," she confirmed. "He tried to seduce me into giving back the magic he gave me years ago when I..." she grew sorrowful as she continued, "wished my brother away to him." Her eyes averted Arulan's look.

"You are not the first to call upon his majesty and I'm certain that you shall not be the last."

"Regardless, that is how I came to acquire this piece of his soul. I'm sure he'll want that back too and he can have it. I've had these awful visions ever since I got the damned thing."

Arulan knew the visions weren't from Jareth's magic. He was no seer. His parents were not seers. His magic, his soul were igniting the magic Jareth spoke to the healer off. Sarah had the power of sight. The Triumvirate would most definitely look more favorably upon the mortal because of it, for this Arulan was glad. "Poor dear."

Sarah smiled up at the blue eyes shining down on her. Arulan was a very beautiful elf. Her blonde hair was like spun gold. Her figure was slim. Sarah couldn't help remembering the embrace that she had watched Arulan share with Jareth. A nagging feeling tugged at her heart. Was that jealousy? 'Impossible,' she rationalized.

"You look as if you're growing pale again," Arulan noted. "Why don't I go and make some broth for you and then you can rest some more. Perhaps we'll get you bathed later this afternoon, before his highness returns." The elf couldn't resist nudging fate if it were possible. She didn't care what Jareth said, the right combination would unlock his stony heart and free the feeling he had for this woman.

"Thank you," Sarah replied. Once Arulan had left the room, she began sliding back down into the bed. She couldn't help but notice the ornate headboard. Her fingers traced the Celtic knots whose patterns were as random and chaotic as the Labyrinth. Plucking at the strings of the dream catcher, she recalled the similar item she found in the tomb of the Leanan Sidhe. Trailing down to the leather cords, Sarah spun the painted beads and stroked the soft white feathers that dangled from their edges. "Owl feathers," it dawned on her. Indeed, they were two snow white barn owl feathers. Sarah fell asleep with them laid softly in the palm of one hand while the fingers of her free hand gently ran over them, much like those same fingers had worked their way through Jareth's blonde locks when they were Aboveground. The sweet rhythm of her action lulled her into another sleep, this one filled with dreams.


	16. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN - PERCHANCE TO DREAM**

"Sarah," she heard someone calling softly. "Sarah." She watched with curiosity as she stepped out of her body. Feeling the weight of the silver white ball gown hugging her, she eyed the form that remained in Jareth's bed in its common clothing. "Sarah," she heard once more. She spun around to face the direction the voice called from only to catch the eyes of the fey who leaned himself gracefully against the mantle surrounding the fire. One long finger pointed in her direction curled and beckoning her closer. Eyes wide, she mindlessly obeyed him, almost powerless to resist. The space between them grew smaller as he came forward to greet her in the open space behind the sitting area. One grey glove slid skillful around her waist while the other engulfed her tiny hand guiding her in strange circles her feet weren't accustomed to moving in. She hadn't meant to look down, letting him see she needed to concentrate on where she was shuffling her shoes. Jareth's soft leather glove brushed against her chin as he raised it up to capture her stare. The king was unwilling to share her attention. Grinning wickedly he continued spinning her about, his soothing voice singing in her ear causing the hair on her arms and the back of her neck to stand at attention.

"There's such a fooled heart, beating so fast in search of new dreams, a love that will last within your heart. I'll place the moon within your heart," he sang.

How she longed to let him fulfill these promises to her among other things. Sarah was lost in his eyes, hypnotized by the reflection of the flames within his enlarged pupils. The Goblin King had always had one enlarged eye she recalled, but in secret she admitted that seeing the other broaden excited her. In her world it was rumored that in addition to the waning of ambient light, observing something that one desired would evoke such a reaction. 'Desire me,' she thought.

"I'll paint you mornings of gold. I'll spin you Valentine evenings."

It wasn't long before his caroling lips found themselves caressing her throat. Velvet pillows dancing over her tingling skin, jagged teeth nipping at her ear, hot breath chasing away the shivers in her spine. When did she close her eyes? Sarah opened them to be sure she was still where her heart wished to be. The Goblin King's formal attire had been replaced by the silk pajamas she had seen him in this morning. Her ball gown too had vanished, giving way to a delicate lavender chemise. Made of silk, it kissed at the skin where Jareth's lips had yet to venture. The lace bodice obscured the details of her chest but by no means hid her shapely figure. Little could be hid at all beneath the delicate fabrics. When the king moved to hold her back some, eager to drink her in, impassioned to continue with his promises, Sarah turned her head away shyly. Jareth refused to let break their gaze for long.

"But I'll be there for you as the world falls down. Falling. Falling down. Falling in love."

His lips came crashing down on hers and she melted into his embrace. With a well choreographed sweep she was in his arms, her small hands gripping his neck, their eyes joined. Jareth carried her across the room and finally lay Sarah back on the bed, reuniting her soul with the body it left behind to come and dance with him. The king was leaning over her, one knee on the mattress. Sarah's lips parted in anticipation of another kiss.

"Sarah." It was a conglomeration of voices she heard in her head. The sweet lightness of her body suddenly gone. She felt heavy again plagued by the intermittent throbbing in her skull. "Sarah," Arulan called again.

'Damn,' she thought now painfully aware that she had returned to her body and more painfully aware that this body ached for a man her mind didn't want to love. Besides, she had pushed him away, more than once, what would he want with her now? In truth, she wished the elf had stayed away a bit longer. She wanted to follow the dream, see where it led. It may have been the concussion talking, but since she had woken up in Jareth's bed she couldn't stop imagining what it would be like to have him in it.

"Feeling better?"

Sarah nodded and smiled. 'Better than when?' her mind questioned. It was obvious that she was better than she had been twelve hours ago and worse than she had been twelve minutes ago. Stuck in some emotional limbo that made her want to hide away from everyone until things started making sense again. Fulfilling that request would be highly unlikely in the Underground where nothing was as it seemed and even less of it made sense.

For a minute, she stopped listening to the voices in her head and heard the growl of her stomach. From a tray on the bed side table she could smell something that was making her very hungry. Arulan had brought her a bowl of broth and was positioning the tray over Sarah's lap as the weary mortal struggled to rise. Sipping at the chicken broth did seem to be easing her throat and it wasn't upsetting her tummy any. No sense taking any chances, so she was careful not to make the same mistake she had with the water by gulping it down. "I never thought plain old chicken broth could taste so good."

"Glad you like it," Arulan told her. "It was all we had left in the kitchen after lunch was served."

"Lunch has been served, what time is it?"

"Nearly two."

"Have I slept that long?"

Arulan sat beside her on the bed and reached to smooth her hair. "However long you've been asleep Sarah, you're body needed the recovering. Why don't you finish your broth and I'll run you a hot bath. Would you like to get cleaned up?"

She nodded as she kept sipping at the broth. Karen had never mothered her the way this delicate elf was now, never attempted to comfort her, soothe her. Not even her real mother had been so tender with her, not that she could recall anyway. The thought of just how much she had missed out on made her eyes tear. She tried to bat away the forming droplets, but one escaped and slipped down her cheek.

Jareth's servant noticed immediately, "Did I say something to upset you?"

"No Arulan. I was just...thinking of my family."

"You must miss them very much. I'm sure you're in a hurry to get home to them," even if she spoke the words, she feared them being true.

Nodding and smiling once again, Sarah thought, 'I've missed them as long as I've had them, even when they were sharing the same roof as me, and as for hurrying home to them, there wasn't anything to hurry home to.' "Arulan, do you have any children?

"None of my own dear," she tidied things about the bed as she answered in order to avoid looking at the mortal. "There are those I think of as my children though." She tucked the blankets around Sarah's legs and patted her knees affectionately. "That's enough for me," after a short silence.

Arulan said softly, "I'll leave you to your thoughts dear."

'God no, not that,' Sarah screamed inside as the elf left for the bath. Mechanically she finished the broth. It had been days since he she showered and she was pleased to hear the water running in the next room, although Sarah couldn't help wondering if a cold shower might not be more appropriate. She didn't know what it was that was encouraging her to think of the Goblin King in this new light. Had he really gotten to her so badly with a few long kisses and well placed caresses? Was she that easily manipulated? It wasn't as if this was the man who had taken away her virginity. That was Jason. Prom night, senior year, back seat of 1988 Pontiac Grand Am. Jareth had taken something more personal and more powerful than virginity had become in the jaded world in which Sarah had grown up.

He took her to that masquerade, the one with the silver dress from her dream where the people who danced around her were so mature, so graceful and rutting in debauchery. Jareth had stolen her immaturity, forced her to admit that those wild, innocent eyes weren't seeing anything they didn't already know about. In fact, they weren't watching anything that Sarah hadn't already been curious about. Looking back now, she would have done things so much differently, if only she'd been a few years older, better able to articulate those feelings that children don't think they should have. Playing the games, donning the masks, she would have made herself as elusive as the Goblin King had been. Ducking and disappearing from sight, forcing him to hunt her down. Catching his attention from the corner of her eye as she swayed between two of the masked men at the ball, neither able to draw their attention from her while she saw only the king.

That's what it was. The fey hadn't introduced her to sex, which was frankly a huge discomfort and a bigger disappointment. He hadn't given her that first earth shattering orgasm. She had done that on her own. More greatly anticipated than those things, Jareth had awakened her sexuality which made her crave all those other things, made her crave him now. "Damn you," she whispered when she noticed her face had grown blush.

Arulan came trudging into her daydreams as she had become proficient at doing during the mortal's short stay. "The bath is ready if you care for me to help you."

Frustrated Sarah threw back the covers and placed her feet on the floor. So far, so good, no spinning walls. More slowly than the first time she forced herself to stand. Her stomach wasn't practicing acrobatics, which was pleasing her very much. Arulan had come forward slipping in under one of Sarah's arms to help her walk. At first, she didn't think it was necessary, but the first steps forward proved her wrong. There was no sensation to compare it to really, the way her legs seemed to wobble. If she had been wearing red and white stripes she could have passed for Toby when he made his stay in the Underground. Two uncoordinated stalks flopped over one another trying to get Sarah to the bath. They adamantly refused to obey the messages her brain sent them. Jareth's servant grunted as she attempted to steady the woman. "Stop fighting it," Arulan instructed her. "Your muscles are weak. Lean on me, let me lead you. In time, it will all return. Patience."

'Patience? Are you serious? How the hell long is this going to take?" is what she wanted to say, but instead she sighed giving in to her gummy legs and leaden feet, allowing the elf to do most of the work that brought them closer to the bath.

Even the sight of the steaming water was making her feel more human. Arulan pulled a chair over so that Sarah could sit to undress herself. It had become obvious that she was not yet ready for long term standing. Sarah readily accepted the seat. "What, you're going to watch me?"

"Sarah, please, I have bathed others before. I am a servant you know." Arulan folded towels and left them on a tray beside the tub. Soaps and shampoos came next. Lastly, she poured lavender oil into the hot water. When she returned to Sarah's side, she was still fully clothed. "If it makes you that uncomfortable, I can step outside."

"No, it's just the concussion talking," she smiled. "I'm sure your very professional." What she was really trying to decide was whether or not those 'others' she had bathed included Jareth. Sarah let out a small moan and began disrobing. She didn't feel strong enough to stand in order to remove her jeans so she wiggled out of them while still seated. Surrounded by all the marble and ceramic which comprised the bath, Sarah shivered in just her undergarments. She fumbled with the clasp of her bra.

"Do you require assistance?" Arulan offered.

Sarah nodded.

The elf stepped forward to help remove the undergarment, "My but you mortals do wear strange undergarments."

"What's so strange about them?"

"They're so small. It's no wonder you fumble with them."

"What do they wear here?"

Jareth's servant thought a moment and replied, "I suppose it's different for each species. Some of the fey women will use corsets or bodices in combination with bloomers or crinoline layers. Others choose little more than a slip." Unsure why Sarah was pursuing this question Arulan asked, "Do you need me to have the seamstress make you up a few things.?"

"No, thank you. I brought along a few days worth of clothes." Sarah stood to remove her underwear, but found that bending to do so brought back the spinning.

Arulan insisted she straighten up again then picked up where the mortal had left off. "I'll have these taken to the laundry for cleaning," she told her as she gathered up Sarah's clothes.

"Thank you." Having a servant wasn't so bad after all. She made the first few steps toward the tub when she realized she needed to go to the bathroom. "If you please, might you tell me where the commode is?"

"The water closet is behind that curtain," Arulan pointed. "Do you need a hand?"

"No, no, I can make it." Sarah tried to force herself. Not that she wasn't grateful for Arulan's being so patient, she was. Sarah was naked and the idea of another woman touching her was a little disconcerting. The first few steps weren't so bad, but there was a raised step into what Arulan referred to as the water closet. It tripped her up a bit. The elf was at her side, gingerly taking her hand and shoulder to guide her back to a standing position. Sarah was appreciative of the way Jareth's servant held her, careful to place her hands only where it was appropriate.

"Maybe I've gotten you out of bed too soon, Sarah. Perhaps a bath was a bad idea."

"No, I'd like to get cleaned up. I know it will make me feel better." Besides, going back to bed meant more chances to dream and Sarah wasn't ready for that.

"Have it your way." When she was through in the water closet, Arulan helped her into the tub. "I'll leave you to your privacy then. There's a flute on the table, blow it when you're through and I'll come help you out."

"Thank you." She seemed to be saying that perpetually. No matter she decided. It couldn't hurt to be courteous. Sarah sunk in the tub up to her neck, letting her arms drape over the sides. It was the best she'd felt in as long as she could remember. Hot water eased her muscles while the lavender scent filled her nose. 'This is fabulous,' she thought.

Sarah looked at the tray Arulan left beside the tub. There were three soaps, each smelled delightful. She decided to use the last one since it was already in her hand. Working her hands into a rich lather, she washed her face and neck. The brush scrubbing at her back was complete renewal. But it was when the brush began massaging her legs that Sarah tossed back her head and let out a moan of pleasure, until she noticed that her legs needed shaving. There was a older model razor on the tray, the kind that required an actual blade to be fastened into place. It wasn't the pink plastic Bic disposables she was used to, but then how hard could it be? Starting with her armpits, where the curves were less treacherous, she managed just fine. Carefully, she dragged the new blade over the length of her leg, repeating the motion until it was bare. When Sarah finished the other leg she ladled water over it rinsing away the severed hair. Lavender oil made the water thick, almost like a lotion and Sarah couldn't resist massaging it into her dry skin. Starting with her feet, concentrating on her calves and finally her thighs.

Everything around her was Jareth's. Sarah was suddenly quite aware of that. This was his tub she was soaking in. Odd sensations filled her as she thought about sitting naked where the Goblin King had done the same. Recognition was replaced with remembering as her mind wandered back to her morning's dream. She was as weightless now as she felt in his majesty's arms. Her vivid imagination picked up where Arulan's greeting had forced her dream to leave off. This time Jareth kept leaning over her until her frame could feel the weight of him. His gloves pushed back her hair, mismatched eyes holding her stare. Jareth's mouth covering her own. Sarah imagined his knee working to part her thighs and soon her temperature was greater than that of the water around her. The hand that had been contentedly rubbing her thigh and begun fondling the area that lay between them. For a minute she contemplated giving into her body's desires, hoping that momentary satisfaction would put an end to the torment. 'It's not entirely a bad idea,' she thought. She even dared to wonder if Jareth had engaged in such activities, even within this very room. Quickly Sarah withdrew her hand from the water, spraying herself in the face. It was more than her body growing heated, the water had taken on a bit of a chill. Cold spray was precisely what she needed to bring her out of the fantasy.

Doing her best to comose herself, Sarah smoothed back her wet hair. Feeling rude, but made uncomfortable by the chilling water., Sarah reached for the flute and blew. It made a very sour single tone despite her efforts to cover different tone holes and produce some half assed melody.

Arulan came almost immediately with a white terry robe in hand. "Ready Sarah?"

"Yes please."

The mortal started to rise from the tub causing Arulan to call out. "I'll help you. I don't want you falling again."

Sarah groaned, very displeased at being treated like an invalid. Though she would admit to herself that she did in fact need assistance, she didn't see the point in letting on to Jareth's servant who was most probably telling him everything anyway. She slid her arms into the terry robe. It was plush and felt heated as if it had been just taken from the dryer. Arulan helped her back to the bed. Sarah sat with her legs hanging over the edge refusing to lie back.

"You need to get some rest," Arulan told her as she began to lay out a lavender chemise, made of silk with a lace bodice together with a matching robe and a pair of slippers which she tucked neatly under the edge of the bed.

Gasping Sarah recalled where she had seen that garment before. "Where did you get those?"

"Oh, I hope you don't mind. I took some of your clothing to the seamstress while you were in the tub and had her make you up a few things that I couldn't help noticing you didn't have." Arulan studied the shocked expression on Sarah's face immediately mistaking it for upset. "You don't like?" she asked. "I could have her make you something else? Something that would cover more? Cover less? Another color perhaps?" None of the suggestions Arulan made seemed to change the look upon the mortal's face.

At some length, Sarah met Arulan's worried gaze, "No, that won't be necessary. I like that one. I like it very much."

Sleep had claimed her once again. Arulan had left hours ago to tend to her other duties around the castle leaving Sarah to switch into her bed clothes, but before she could lavish herself in the rich silk of the chemise, sleep had come. The mortal lie a top the duvet, still clad in the terry robe. Her rest had been dream free and the foggy feeling of waking up was making it's appearance. When she first opened her eyes she was disappointed. Yawning and stretching she wondered why no dreams had come to her. Looking down, her eyes were greeted by the white terry robe which she had fallen to sleep in. Her head still felt heavy. Too heavy to get up and change into the nightgown that Arulan had left for her. In fact, she would have preferred to roll over and go back to bed, but it was no use. She was wide awake. Frustrated she turned onto her side and repositioned the robe so that she was covered. Her hand swept over the fabric of the pillow which held her heavy head. She pulled back the duvet and marveled at the feel of sheets. Silks and velvets were everywhere in Jareth's decorating and it puzzled her that such a gruff and miserable fey would adorn himself with these kinds of sensory stimulating, tangible luxuries. Puzzled and intrigued.

Deciding that she would offer herself to sleep once more, Sarah crawled beneath the duvet where she could allow her freshly shaven legs to create a soothing friction against the silk sheets. "Maybe I'll never leave," she said out loud and then quickly glanced around to be sure that her meaningless utterance hadn't been overheard. Sarah had lain herself at the alter of sleep, but her offering had been denied. She tossed and turned suddenly very uncomfortable in what was perhaps the most perfect bed she had ever slept in. The knot of her robe had come undone which was allowing the cool silk to touch the warm skin of her right side. Sarah couldn't resist contemplating Jareth naked in his bed taking the same comfort in the cool silk that she was now.

The more she thought on it, the more elusive sleep became, increasing her frustrations. It was bringing back those headaches from this morning she hoped had gone. Throbbing pains in her temple gave way to a sudden stabbing and Sarah winced in pain. Wide awake, images began to dance beneath her eye lids. Jareth's room, a woman's laughter as she coyly positioned herself atop the bed wearing little more than a slip. Hadn't Arulan said something about that? Maybe it was a glitch in her vision, but the woman's face was obscured. Perhaps Sarah just did not want to see the face of the woman who writhed about the king sized mattress doing her best to draw the attention of the Goblin King. Sarah looked around her vision for Jareth. She found him at a corner table to the left of the fireplace which she was just now noticing. A silver tray held some glasses and a few decanters. The fey poured a drink into one of the glasses and downed it quickly. He removed his coat and boots, then tightened his gloves by pulling them up his long fingers and tugging at the wrists.

Sarah watched intently as he crossed the room, moving herself around the vision so that she could sit in the point of view of the woman Jareth walked toward. Her heart skipped a beat as those long and slender legs made their determined strides. The woman must have shuffled over to the far side of the bed because Jareth was sliding in beneath the duvet. With a wave of his hand his clothes were gone, but for two black soft leather gloves which remained ever present. Sarah looked at his pale chest, the candle light dancing off it like a frozen pond. Her hands reached out for thin air. Hoggle had told her she could control the vision, but right now it felt just the opposite. 'How modest,' Sarah thought given his majesty was typically so bold and self assured. A feminine hand began to caress the king and Sarah wanted to make it stop, she didn't want to see this. Her heart had known that he had other woman before her visit 15 years ago. Logically he had them since, but to know and to watch were very different things. Cruelly the vision continued.

Jareth grabbed the woman fiercely, pulling her to him, dipping his head immediately to the crook of her neck and beginning his assault on her senses. The woman threw her head back. Sarah could feel it, the way she had no choice but to surrender to this fey, make things easier for him. The mortal also couldn't help but notice that this was not the same way he had been with her. It was rougher, less hesitant than he had been with her. It made Sarah envious of this woman, jealous that he wanted her enough to throw caution away. Jareth's hand moved to lower the straps her slip, his lips moving down her neck over her chest to her already hardened nipple. She arched into him. Sarah arched too as she felt this woman's tension mounting. Though no love was lost between the two of them, these strangers shared an intimate similarity, they both wanted the Goblin King.

Intently Sarah stared at the face of the king, his eyes closed as he positioned himself above the woman in his bed. She lie back trying to catch her breath brazenly putting herself into the vision as if she were the woman about to be taken by Jareth. Sarah didn't know enough about the species of the Underground to know exactly what breed the woman was. It was a tiny woman, small and delicate, definitely not mortal. Sarah could sense her magic along with the sensation of Jareth's gloves over her thighs, hiking up that slip. With precision he worked his palm against her sensitive mound. The woman cried out the king's name. Sarah whispered along with her. "You mustn't speak," he told her plainly, "it disturbs my concentration."

Fey had to concentrate? The mortal found it odd, but tossed the comment aside for she had better things to focus on at the moment. Sarah was enthralled with the very look of him. The distinct features of his face. The hills that ran along his biceps as he held himself over his lover. Her hands began their absent straying, reaching out for a body who wasn't truly there and she cursed the woman whose life she was viewing for not wanting to do the same so that she might at least vicariously know the sensation. Something startled Sarah as she lie in the bed soaking up what her sight allowed her. She had adjusted well to being able to share the feelings of the people in her visions. She had even come to terms with her own reactions to those feelings, aware that she was sometimes trying to touch a vapor, a picture she could see, but that her fingers went right through. Those were actions she made on her own. This was an involuntary movement, something she had not told her body to do and yet it was happening in perfect synchrony with her vision. Her legs slid apart, rolling easily over the slick fabric. A gasp escaping her lips when she felt a nudging at her crotch.

Jareth's face was still inches from hers even if his body was somewhere else. It was better than any fantasy she'd had with Christian. She watched the muscles of his neck grow tighter as he stopped the purposeful massaging and used his hand to guide himself into her. His task now complete those taught muscle relaxed, their tension seeming to melt down the king's lithe body and settle into his hips which had begun a gentle rocking. It was as if the woman, whomever she had been, that helped to serve as a medium between them was gone. Sarah's hips rose against the sensations she was feeling. Her heartbeat quickened, her breathing erratic as sweat formed along her hair line. She met each thrust in time with him bringing her closer to the feeling of release she had been seeking all day. Her eyes closed as she lost herself in his rhythm. Her body felt full, content, happy to stay at this state of heightened sensation indefinitely. A smile spread over her lips, her head raising up in an effort to capture his lips, but none were there. She felt his pace quicken and set her head back down. Needy fingers reached to grab something that would keep her in place as the king repeatedly drove into her. Had the air somehow gone thin in the room? Sarah found it increasingly difficult to breath. Jareth stilled his movements, pulling almost completely free of his lover before sinking himself back in to the hilt. This torturous process was repeated several times before she was startled by the sensation of soft leather on her naked hips. She opened her eyes, the holographic image still there, his eyes closed, his look determined. Sarah could feel the orgasm building in her body, the mirrored orgasm of this faceless woman she wanted to wish away. Her mind cast her out. 'It's only you and I Jareth,' her mind said, 'only you and I.'

As if he had heard her, the king's thrusts became quick and short, his own satisfaction lying just beneath the surface. Jareth was burrowed deep within his lover, the weight of him pressing on her pelvic bone increasing her stimulation, his length managing to not only stroke her from within, but cascade over the small bundle of nerves at the top of her folds as well. Soft moans echoed in the empty space around them as her orgasm came in waves, gently at first like summer breezes that blew from the river's edge effortlessly over the bank and then building as a white cap would break as it journeyed further from the middle of the ocean, its intensity far too great to survive all the way to shore. Jareth's completion came several minutes later as his lover was coming down from her sensational high. Sarah was suddenly very satisfied, although her body ached to have the feel of him beside her, at least the carnal urges she'd been suppressing had been fulfilled.

'Amazing,' she realized as she lie there still at the mercy of her vision. His skills as a lover had been quite good, better than she had expected they might have been. He rose from the bed, immediately drawing a robe around his body and heading to his bath. The woman in the bed remained behind until his door was closed. Then she dressed and left. Sarah wondered what sort of relationship it was that could one minute be so passionate and the next so cold. The vision ended leaving Sarah very confused.

Before she could stop asking herself a series of questions, all of which began with why, the king returned, throwing open his bedroom door and barreling inside as if it were any other day. Sarah moved quickly to cover herself and smooth her wild hair. "Why don't you knock before barging into a room?" she asked angrily.

"Because it is still my room, is it not?"

She despised having a question answered by another question and spat back, "Yes, yes it is, but you know I'm in here and what if I had been in some state of undress?"

Jareth undid the buttons of his coat and tossed it over the back of the settee. Purposeful steps brought him to the bedside, his eyes stealing a peek at the crevasse of Sarah's breastbone revealed by her partially open robe. Trying his best to not show his appreciation for her form, the king met her eyes and narrowing his brow said as monotone as he could, "Surely you give yourself a great deal of credit, Sarah. You may do and say as you please, you have no power over me." With this he disappeared into the bath slamming the door closed behind him. He said it so casually.

Words were sometimes the greatest weapons one could wield. Sarah knew that as she sat in the king's bed, her own statement spat back at her. Tears came to her eyes. It had been one thing, needing to say them all those years ago when it was Toby she needed to rescue, but it had become quite another to hear them being said. Tightening the robe around herself, Sarah emerged from the warmth of the bed. Her feet fit easily in the slippers Arulan had left behind. Stomach no longer churning and head steady she marched to the door of the bath, balled her hand into a fist and began to pound upon the door with all her might.

"Can a fey not get one moment's piece in his own chamber!" Jareth shouted from inside.

"You listen to me Goblin King, I didn't ask to be brought back to your chamber. You made me a guest here. I expect you to treat me as such." Sarah's arms folded across her chest as she stood back feeling as if she had articulated herself quite well.

"You are no guest here."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Inside the bath, Jareth stood watching the door. He hadn't need to use the bath at all, it was just better that he walk away from her, put some distance between the two of them until the part of him that wanted to kill her managed to outlast the part of him that wanted to kiss her. "You're my prisoner."

"Prisoner?"

"Yes. I saved you from the Pooka, captured you and brought you back here as my prisoner."

"Captured me?"

"Yes, captured you."

"I was unconscious!"

"I didn't say it was a challenge to do so."

"So you could make me your prisoner?"

"Yes."

"Why bother saving me, then?"

Tired of her whining, Jareth threw open the door. "I couldn't very well kill you." He stepped around her, leaving her standing there stunned that he would be so vicious.

"Kill me?"

"What? I didn't do it!" he protested as he draped himself over the settee. Snapping his fingers, he ignited the fire.

"Why not just leave me for the Pooka then? Why not just let it drop me off some place? Maybe a nice oubliette where everyone could just forget about me."

"What did you just say?"

"You heard me!" Sarah flopped onto the couch and faced him.

One long forefinger pointed at her, "Who told you about April?"

"Oh, so now you remember her."

The Goblin King leaned in on her, his hands grasping at the furniture attempting to keep them from tightening around her throat. "In case you forgot, I was trying to keep a kingdom together, a kingdom that some foolish little child had shattered with a few carelessly strung together words." Drawing back her hand she moved to strike him. As he had done before he smoothly caught her by the wrist. "I strongly caution you against doing that."

For a minute, Sarah forgot that he had just been talking about killing her. She remembered that night at her apartment, the way he'd grabbed her like he had just now. The tension in her arm relaxed and Jareth let her go. "So why did you save me, then?"

"I had to," his tone softened. "I couldn't just let you die."

Leaning into him, Sarah did her best to pout. She meant to look into his eyes, but focused on his mouth instead. "You couldn't?" her fingers trailed over his shoulder. "Why?"

Jareth did his best to ignore the creamy beige thigh that was showing from beneath her robe. He lifted his glove to her cheek. "No I couldn't," his eyes peering deeply into Sarah's. "You see I have no power over you which means that if I want to see you punished I needed to keep you alive long enough to get you to the Triumvirate." He patted the side of her face and leaned back, content that he had gotten well under her skin.

"You're taking me to the Triumvirate?"

"Of course I am."

"And if I refuse to go?"

"There's nothing for you to refuse, you are my prisoner."

"I am not!" Sarah drew her knees to her chest and pouted. "I can leave any time I please."

"Really?" Palm supporting his chin, the king drummed his fingers over his lips. "Where will you go?"

"Back to Hoggle's."

"So the dwarf is the one who helped you stalk me?"

"I'm not stalking you." She had intended to apologize, but now that he was acting like such an ass, he could just forget about it.

"How did you get here? Did Hedge Hog bring you here?"

"His name is Hoggle," Sarah emphasized, "and no, he didn't bring me here. You brought me here!"

"Impossible, I have no magic when it comes to you or any other mortal for that matter."

Sarah smiled at him feeling as though she had the upper hand, enjoying what she was about to level him with. "You left your jacket at my house. I found one of your crystals in the pocket."

The Goblin King growled irritated with himself. "You used my crystal?"

"Finders keepers," the mortal replied.

"Oh, very mature Sarah."

"As mature as keeping someone prisoner in your castle." This wasn't going the least bit like Sarah had imagined. She wanted to apologize, make things right. She wanted him to speak to her the way he had once before, with romantic promises and words of love. Instead they were battling like two adolescents in a school yard.

Jareth was furious with her for pushing his buttons, furious with himself for leaving the crystal behind. She was hard to love and he had thought he wanted rid of her, but now that she was here, maybe he didn't. If only he hadn't made that call to the Triumvirate this afternoon. Too late now he decided as he watched her staring off towards his bed. The robe had fallen back exposing all of her leg now which was more temptation than he needed, "Why don't you get dressed?"

In all the time she'd been awake since her bath, Sarah had never bothered to put on the gown that Arulan had left behind. She looked down at herself now realizing how much the terry robe exposed. 'Christ,' she thought, 'He can't even look at me.' Not wanting to offend the king with any more of her revolting flesh, Sarah smoothed the robe over her rump as she stood. The beautiful carving on the footboard caught her eye for the first time. The waterfall and dancing fairies seemed a curious thing for Jareth to have carved into his bed. Wondering what the story was behind all the ornate pictures he chose to keep so close, in such a personal place as his bed, she lifted the silk chemise and robe from the bed. On her way to the bath, she watched Jareth staring into the fire. Somewhere inside him was the fey who loved her and even if she needed to be shameless about it she would bring that fey to the surface.

"Damn him for being so stubborn," Sarah told her reflection as she changed into her bed clothes. "And damn the Triumvirate too. What are they going to punish me for? I'm the reason their kingdom is repairing itself. If anything they should be catering to me, seeing that I'm comfortable and my needs are met." The seamstress had sewn together a perfect gown for the mortal, tight where it should have been, flowing like liquid mercury where tight was less appropriate. With the robe on, Sarah felt less revealed and for now she was content to leave it that way. She washed her face and plaited back her hair, leaving a few pieces to spiral loosely around her face. Satisfied with her appearance she, reemerged making a slight noise as if to clear her throat, when in reality she was trying to catch Jareth's attention. It was no use, he was still staring into the fire, oblivious to her.

Closing in on him, it was plain to see that he had fallen asleep. Arulan did say that the king was up all night, plus he'd gone to work today, whatever that entailed. He must be very tired she rationalized. Sarah was starving. With her host resting peacefully, she thought she could go seek out her own sustenance rather than disturb him. As quietly as she could, Sarah opened the large door and slipped into the hall. Grey stone comprised the walls to either side of her. Little decoration filled the space, some armor, some weaponry and scattered sconces to light the way. Before she could even reach the stairs the Goblin King was before her.

"Thought you could escape did you?"

"No, I was just…"

Without even allowing her to finish her justification Jareth scooped her up over his shoulders. Her small fists pounding into his back. "Let me down! Jareth, you put me on my feet this instant or I will…"

"You will what? Scream! You're already doing a fine job of that. You shouldn't have tried to escape." He threw open the door to the bedroom.

Most of Sarah was upset with him not letting her explain, but one small part of her was very excited by his assertiveness. "I wasn't trying to escape," she whimpered in her defense just before he tossed her on to the bed so hard that it made her bounce off the mattress a few times before her body lie still. The king's hair had gotten tussled in the process and his painter's shirt had slid to one side of his shoulders revealing the pale chest Sarah had tried so hard to reach for in her dream. "I was just hungry." Her voice sounded childlike making her wish she could stuff the words back down her throat and repeat them in a more suggestive way.

Eyeing her suspiciously, Jareth used a flute to call for Arulan. The elf came into his quarters with a smile trying to hide itself on her lips. It pleased her to find his majesty in such close proximity to the mortal, especially bedside. Once he spoke, her hopes were dashed, "Get our prisoner," he said with distaste, "something to eat. She has grown so hungry that she felt the need to attempt an escape."

Sarah propped up on her elbows causing her robe to open wide, the lace bodice of her chemise revealed. "For the last time, I didn't want to escape." Her eyes moved to catch Jareth's, but his were already captured by the blend of creamy beige, lavender and lace that was exposed for anyone to notice. Arulan took the two of them in. They were playing a game of cat and mouse, she only hoped neither of them was stupid enough to lose each other again.

For an uncomfortably long moment, they continued to look over each other not realizing that Arulan had left the room. Sarah enjoyed catching him looking at her this way. She liked to think that he was still at least attracted to her, even if she had destroyed any chance there was for him to love her. It was only fair, her being able to use her body to torment him, for she had grown to hunger for him. That was his fault. Kissing her the way he had, letting her think that after all this time he would still come for her when he made his way into her world. Now she missed the things she had never even known before, the scent of him, the feel of him, the taste of him, all laced with magic, magic that made her come alive.

Jareth enjoyed taking in his mortal. The lines of her tone figure were pleasing to his eye. More than her breasts, more than her legs, more than the subtle hill that extended beneath her waist he, loved to look at her face, until that bratty mouth of hers opened. Then he grew overcome by the urge to hold her lips closed with his own until she ended her silly objections. But there was a piece of him that hated her, hated her for denying him, for making it so that he could never love another, making it so difficult to love her. Lost in thought, Jareth hadn't noticed that it was no longer just his heart which was filling with want. The tightening in his breeches made him turn around as inconspicuously as possible and sweep up his jacket, draping it over his forearm and holding it waist high before him so that it covered the rather obvious bulge that had begun to form.

"I'm going to take a bath," he announced. Thinking that he sounded awful foolish being so vocal about his bathroom habits, the king cringed as he reached out for the door. Once secluded inside, he ran a luke warm tub and dunked himself inside hoping it would chase away the flow of blood to his groin. Nothing with this woman was ever as it seemed to be. When she seemed to hate him, she loved him. When she seemed to turn him away, she wanted him. The Goblin King could no longer guess what she was thinking, but his suspicious nature made it difficult to trust her.

Still in his bed, Sarah peeled back the covers and snuggled inside their folds. Suddenly she felt quite weak, an odd sensation that started at her knees and when up to her head. She was cold, except for a few places that burned from within.

Arulan returned with Sarah's meal while Jareth was still in the bath. "Excuse me Sarah," she said placing the tray on the bedside table. "I've brought your dinner. I've got a quarter section of chicken, some potatoes and some fresh greens from his majesty's garden. If you don't like chicken, there's some lamb that I could bring or more soup."

"No Arulan, I don't mind chicken. This is fine. It looks wonderful." Sarah immediately dove a fork into the potatoes. Her appetite had most definitely returned.

"Oh where's my head," the elf said tossing her arms into the air. "Chef's made the most beautiful peach cobbler for desert and I haven't even brought you any. I'll be right back."

As she turned to go, Jareth came from the bath, his hair still damp and already in his pajamas. "Arulan?"

"Your majesty?" she said startled.

"I will take my meal here with the mortal. I no longer trust her to be left alone since her escape attempt earlier."

"Yes your grace."

"And Arulan?"

"Yes your grace?"

"I'll need you to have Gribbin organize two horses and travel supplies for morning."

"Your grace?"

He approached his servant and spoke lowly, "Two horses and travel supplies Arulan, by morning."

"You can't be thinking of taking her to them."

"I must. She must be dealt with."

Her forearms rested on his chest, something Sarah took great interest in, "Please your majesty, take pity on the girl. It is obvious the two of you still feel something for one another. I beg you."

"Gribbin should set up enough to sustain us for up to one week. Without magic, we'll have to travel to the mountains the mortal way." His black silk gloves folded over her wrists, "There's nothing I can do. I've already called them and made an appointment for three days from tomorrow's sunrise. I will say what I can in her defense, but she must be brought before them. Otherwise, if they were to discover her on their own," he paused, "fear that she would have faired better with the Pooka."

Arulan saw in his eyes that he was genuine. The mortal was getting to that part of him that he had locked away. She only hoped that they would find their way to one another, find away around Jareth's being hurt and her being mortal. The pair would have many obstacles to overcome, Arulan knew this, but she also knew that in all of Jareth's life no woman had ever owned his soul, until now.

When his tray was served he took his meal on the settee by the fire. Chef was serving an herb encrusted lamb which induced a great thirst in the king. He rose to pour himself a goblet of mead. "Can I get you a glass?" he asked Sarah.

"I'm sorry?" she said barely able to hear him as he grumbled into the corner.

"I'm pouring a glass of mead for my dinner, would you like one?"

"What's mead?"

The king turned to her, the decanter still in his hand, his weight shifted to one side obviously annoyed with the conversation which had been born out of a rather simple question. "It is a honey wine, very common here. If you like, I also have merlot or a light Chardonnay."

"A Chardonnay would be nice," she replied.

He brought the glass to her, purposefully thumbing her fingers as she removed the crystal goblet from his palm. "Thank you," she said accepting the beverage, her eyes on his. "You could come up here and eat," the words blurted from between her lips without her permission. "I mean, if you don't want to eat alone."

"Would you enjoy my company?"

"If you stopped accusing me of trying to escape and weren't so defensive, perhaps I might." She cursed herself for sending as many mixed messages to him as she was receiving.

"I'm not defensive. You just misunderstand everything."

"See what I mean?"

"Hmpf!" Jareth went back to his tray mumbling, "Well at least I didn't mention your trying to escape again." When he'd left her side, he had intended to go back to the couch and eat, but now as he looked at his tray he saw his fingers wrapping through the handles and lifting it up so that he could go join her. 'What am I doing?' he found himself asking, but nonetheless, repositioned his meal so that it could be eaten while he watched the mortal, who seemed so small in his massive bed, so defenseless despite her sharp tongue.

Sarah smiled at him from the corner of her eye beneath two tendrils. "So, what's new?" 'Tell me I didn't just say that,' she cried inside.

Jareth just gave her a very confused look, his eyes rolled up high in their sockets as he paused mid-bite at the question.

"You know what I meant, how have you been?" Met with that same look, Sarah knew she wasn't getting any better at this. Trying to avoid saying anything else embarrassing, she returned her attention to her meal and filled her mouth with a forkful of greens.

The king sensed her tension. In truth he didn't know what to say to her unless it was being said in the heat of the moment, friendly banter had never come easy between the two of them. "I've been as best as could be expected." Keeping his answer short he busied his tongue by bathing it in a swig of mead.

'Me too,' Sarah thought. This had not been the best topic to discuss she decided. "I like your bed," she said cheerfully. Mead spurted from between Jareth's lips as he began to choke on the droplets that had gotten sucked into his airway. Sarah wished she could pull the covers over her head and vanish. "I mean, I've been very comfortable in it." Jareth looked at her quizzically between coughs. "The carvings are very interesting, quite pretty."

"Thank you," he finally managed. "My father had a similar bed built for my mother when he first came here. It is patterned after that."

"The dream catcher in her tomb, is that from her headboard?"

"Who took you to the tomb?" He questioned, his eyes blazing as he slammed his silverware onto the tray.

"No one," Sarah shook as she replied.

"How did you get in?"

"I…I asked permission of the guard."

"Didymus! I might have known he'd give you anything you wanted. You have them all wrapped around your finger. That place is none of your business and I forbid you to go there ever again."

"I think it's sweet," her voice still shaking in fear of him. Jareth was an attractive male, even when he was angry, but he was also powerful even without his magic. It was the powerful tone that came from his otherwise benevolent lips which shook her from within.

"Do you now?" Seeing her intense reaction to him having raised his voice he spoke more sternly and less loudly, refusing to meet her eyes.

"I do. Building a place like that where you can remember your mother. Giving her the dream catcher so that her eternal sleep will be filled with pleasant dreams."

"Little you know," the king huffed.

"Tell me then."

"You think you want to know, but you don't"

"I do," she protested. "I really do." Sarah moved the tray away, through eating for now. Her stomach was near exploding, but it felt good to have solid food in her so she tried not to pay any attention to what little discomfort she had.

"Leanan Sidhe is many histories old."

Sarah looked at him quizzically, "Why don't you call her mother?"

"Do you want to know about the dream catcher or not?" He didn't wish to discuss intimate things with her. He was angry that she had gone into his mother's tomb, angry that she had seen that deeply into him and yet seen nothing at all.

Sarah nodded.

"As I said, Leanan Sidhe is many histories old and has visited all regions of the Aboveground. In Scandinavia they named her Skagsfru. She became known as the forest fairy with the fatal touch. They, the mortals, told tales of how she would lure men into the woods and make love to them until she was able to suck the soul from his body. On the Isle of Man she was tagged the Dark Seductress, who would seduce her victims and draw their spirit out leaving him a ruined husk in body and soul. Bonga Maiden was her name in India, a capricious nature spirit who enticed, and even dared to marry, human men. But the lands that seem to know her best were the Americas. To the Lakota and other Native American tribes she earned the title Deer Maiden. Leanan Sidhe had great power to inspire artists, painters, poets, musicians, she shared her gift with them all. Rumors held that some of them went mad when their mortal minds failed to adapt to the flood of ideas that she gave them. As you can probably tell from her portrait, she was a strikingly beautiful creature with long dark hair and deep set eyes. Mortal men found her very attractive. Her tongue could spin silvery words out of rust making the cruelest insult sound like a robin's song."

'So that's where he got it, ' she thought."She sounds like a wonderful woman," Sarah added when Jareth paused in his account of his mother's history. "Only it seems that she's been incredible misunderstood."

"I suppose that could be true. I can't say that I knew her very well, Sarah. She died when I was very young."

"Didymus told me how she stayed too long in the Aboveground."

"She was a fool, in life and in death, a fool. Leanan Sidhe's soul returned home when her body died. Of course it was as stubborn as it ever had been. She terrorized the Labyrinth and that is why I built the tomb."

"To give her some place to call home, but why the dream catcher from her bed?"

"You ask many questions, Sarah." Jareth pointed out as he gathered their goblets and went to refresh their drinks.

"I'm sorry, I just like getting to know people."

"No need to apologize. There is much here which I assume you will be curious about." The king handed her the refilled goblet and they both drank. "You know about dream catchers?"

"I studied anthropology in high school. They were hung over beds, mostly children's, where they would collect all the pleasant dreams to hold for the sleeper and all the nightmares would pass through the hole in the center."

"Yes," he said, impressed that she had recalled something she had learned so long ago. "When Leanan Sidhe would visit the new world she met an Native American, he was not a chief or a medicine man, but he was better thought of than any other warrior. Somewhat of a wiseman he was, trusted and respected among his tribe. I am told that he treated Leanan Sidhe like his own child, refusing to believe the vicious rumors that were abound, believing in her, wishing her well. His name was Dyami. It means equal. Fitting as he was a very just man, fair and impartial. He crafted the dream catcher for her, in hopes that it would help hold all good things close to her while letting the pain and heartache pass through. I thought that it might help to quiet her soul."

"Why raven's feathers?" Sarah understood Jareth's headboard and the owl feathers, "Could your mother transform?"

"Indeed, but mother was a water breed. Dyami chose the raven feathers because of mother's hair."

Sarah watched as his eyes grew distant. It did not go unnoticed that he had called her mother for once. It was obvious that there was a great deal more pain behind his tale than he cared to admit. Her nature was to push the issue, but the Goblin King did not respond well to being pushed. Instead she asked, "What about the flower?"

"It is a Calla Lily kept perpetually under crystal. It will live forever."

"Isn't that kind of depressing, not to mention oxymoronic?"

Jareth finished his drink in one swallow and went for another fill. Sarah raised a hand politely refusing when he offered her more. "I suppose you could say there is some irony to it," the king agreed. "It is a flower associated with death and so for it to live forever must seem odd. But depressing? Really Sarah, I would have thought you far less provincial, you being a student of the arts and all. Don't they make you study interpretation in your mortal schools?" When he returned with his goblet he sat beside her on the bed. "The Calla Lily is a flower of singularity and unchallenged beauty, a flower your kind," he said the word with loathing in his tone, "has graced that which you shall carry with you when you are called home to your God as a symbol of his forgiveness for your sins."

"How do you know so much about my kind?"

"I work with them," he said flatly as his lips revisited the rim of his cup. "It's late and you've already had your bedtime story." The king moved to draw the covers over her. Her hands blocked him and she stood to remove her robe.

Feeling his eyes roam over her as she did so, Sarah moved even slower toward him. "I can't sleep in this thing," she explained as she lay the garment over the back of the chair where Jareth had been sitting. "Besides I really shouldn't keep you from your bed another night." Turning she looked innocently at him. After a moment, he managed to find her eyes.

"Thing of it is, I can't trust you, why with you trying to escape this afternoon and all."

"So we're back to that."

"We are." The king reached for the flute on the bedside table. Lifting it to his lips he played.

Arulan came in seconds later and gave a slight curtsy, "Yes, yer majesty?"

"Some blankets and pillows, Arulan. I wish to make my bed on the settee for tonight, in case our guest," he emphasized the word, "wishes to depart without my knowing in the middle of the night."

"Yes, yer majesty." As quickly as she came she was gone, the dinner trays taken with her.

Sarah crawled back in on the other side of the bed, "I don't know why your making such a fuss. There's more than enough room for us both in the bed."

Jareth's eyes drank her in. It didn't seem to matter how much he did that, observed her, he was still thirsting for the sight of her, hungry for the touch of her. "Sarah, there's not enough room in this kingdom for both of us, let alone that bed." With what little will the alcohol had left behind, the king took to the couch, waiting for his servant to return. Legs that were as unnaturally long as his fingers propped up on the leather of the settee. Jareth fingers laced behind his head so he could watch Sarah huffing and patting at the downy pillows trying to get comfortable. "Something the matter?"

"Just getting comfortable," Sarah told him.

The elf returned with blankets and pillows to spare and went about readying the couch for his majesty. Before she could finish, he dismissed her. "Where will you be going tomorrow," Sarah asked, still not tired enough to go to sleep.

"You'll see when we get there?"

"I'm going with you?"

"Indeed. Without magic it will take quite a while to reach our destination. I assure you that tomorrow will be quite a long day for you. Now shut your eyes and sleep." He made it clear that the topic was not open for debate. As he lay staring at the ceiling taking in steady deep breaths of lavender scent he whispered, "For some it may be an even longer night."


	17. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN - LEADING A MORTAL TO HORSES**

At the castle's front gate the Goblin King and his mortal were greeted by Arulan and Gribbin, both of whom wore troubled expressions. It was Arulan who spoke first, "I see you found the things I left for you."

"I did." A canvas pack had been left in the king's chambers. Inside several pairs of heavy cotton pants with padded seats and a few mid-weight sweaters. Sarah had decided to throw in the long sleeved button up shirt from home and a pair of underwear. With outfits in the bag and the one she was wearing, it was obvious they'd be gone more than one day. What was she supposed to sleep in out in the middle of nowhere. The shirt would do nicely she concluded.

Jareth stood at Sarah's side. Black leather breeches rose up out of his boots and met a grey flowing silk shirt at his waist, a black leather vest held it tightly to his sculpted chest, his crop in hand. Gribbin, the king's stableman, refused to meet the questioning eyes of the king as he confessed the trouble they were having, "Your majesty, we're having a small problem with the horses that you've requested." Gribbin was taller than Hoggle, more broad. Sarah wasn't sure what species he was, but she assumed some sort of goblin chosen based on his size to work with the larger and powerful animals.

Eyes rolled as the king reached for his temple. Was nothing easy for him? Two horses, he had requested two horses. Why was that so difficult? "What's the problem?" Jareth asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

The gruff voice of the goblin replied, "The cheval, she refuses to be reigned. I didn't think you would want the mortal riding on her when she's acting up your highness."

"Indeed," Jareth nodded.

"I've reigned the Saddlebred for her your majesty."

"The golden? Are you sure that's wise?"

"Despite his size, he's a gentle gelding sire. What's more is we only got the Shagya and the other mustang broken."

Jareth sighed, "The saddlebred it is then." He turned to Sarah, "Are you ready?"

Though she wasn't sure, she nodded anyway. Arulan moved toward her, taking one hand into hers. "Do you really feel well enough to make this trip?"

"How long of a trip are we talking about?" Sarah asked the king's servant whose concern had made her curious.

"Three days. Without magic, it's three days travel to the mountains."

"Mountains?" Sarah gulped.

Jareth came between the two women, pushing Arulan back where he could speak to her in low tones that the mortal could not overhear. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing your grace."

"Leave it to my judgment to inform the mortal of what lies in store for her, do you understand?"

"Yes, your grace."

"Have you prepared the pack with our food?" His tone grew softer realizing that he was being a bit belligerent.

"I have."

"Thank you," he muttered.

Blue eyes teared up from beneath her golden locks when she heard the words not often used by the king. Her hands wrapped around his neck forcing him to bend down. In his ear the elf whispered, "Take care of her Jareth. The mountains are no place for a king without any magic. I'm afraid you won't be able to protect her or yourself."

"Dear woman, you needn't trouble yourself. I can care for myself as well as the girl."

"Just be careful," Arulan pleaded before pressing her lips to his cheek and meekly backing away.

Sarah turned her eyes away from the tender scene suddenly feeling as though she were intruding. Jareth cleared his throat and turned his attention to the stableman. "Shall we?"

Gribbin led them to the stables at the rear of the castle grounds. Horses ran freely inside a huge pen, their manes rippling in the drafts they created. "They're beautiful," Sarah commented her eyes wide. "Which one was I supposed to ride?" Jareth pointed to a grey spotted mare. "I've never seen a horse like her.

"I'm sure not," the king said. Under his breath he continued, "Leave it to a woman to give me trouble."

"What's her name?"

"Why does it matter?" he asked frustrated by the delay.

"I just wanted to know." The tone of her voice was slightly agitated but more hurt than anything.

Jareth sighed, "Shadowmere."

"And this is Chataigne," Gribbin said coming up between them tethering a beautifully shaped copper gold horse to the fence. Sarah stood in awe of the magnificent creature. Tall, well proportioned, bright eyes. The mane and tail were both pure white, although next to the rich color of the body it looked more cream. "Beaut, ain't he," the stableman said noticing the way the mortal admired the horse. She nodded. "Gimme just a minute, sire and I'll have Bagheera reigned and ready for you."

"Sarah, I trust you've ridden before?" Jareth asked.

'Oh sure,' she thought, 'once at my cousin's birthday party, her dad hired some guy to show up with a pony and give all the kids rides. I was seven, how much different could this be?' "Sure," she told him, skipping the explanation.

"So what are you waiting for - mount up."

"Doesn't Gribbin need to bring out the saddles?"

"No, we'll be riding bareback. It's better for balance, better for connecting with the horse."

"Of course," Sarah said smugly, now regretting her decision to lie to the king. Her hands reached out to stroke the horse. His skin was warm from being in the sun. Chataigne turned his head to her. Sarah scratched at the white mark on his snout. "Hey boy, I'm Sarah. You sure are a handsome fella. I've never really done this before so cut me some slack okay?"

Gribbin came back from the stable with a stunning black mustang who walked in wide gaits to where he was being led. "Bagheera your highness." Jareth took the reigns.

"Sarah, mount your horse," Jareth demanded.

Chataigne was a tall horse, seventeen hands to be exact. "I need something to put my foot in."

"How about your mouth?" the king suggested as he handed the reigns back to Gribbin and stormed over to her side. "You've never ridden have you?" When she remained unresponsive, "Have you?" he asked more sternly. Sarah shook her head side to side. Jareth knelt before her his hands folded, his fingers locked.

The mortal looked at him, "What are you doing?"

"I'm giving you a leg up. Step into my hands and I will help lift you onto the horse." Sarah lifted her right foot and set the sole of her shoe into Jareth's hands. "Unless you wish to ride backwards, I suggest you use the other leg." Upon his suggestion she replaced right foot with left. Gribbin held the horse steady. The king lifted her into the air with great ease. Sarah swung her right leg around and clipped the king in the ear. "How the hell did you manage that?" he shouted from the ground when she looked down at him. Jareth shook his head trying to get it clear.

Sarah was at his side practically immediately, one hand on his shoulder the other on his chest, her fingers resting on his exposed skin. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry," she said frantically. "I shouldn't have tried if I didn't know what I was doing." Her hands reached for his head, parting his already scattered locks in an effort to find his injury.

It was odd having someone fawn over him like this, concerned about his feelings. Capturing her hands he chastised her, "Stop! Stop it this instant. I'm perfectly alright." He stood quickly leaving her kneeling over thin air.

"I just felt bad for hurting you."

"Well you don't have to worry about anything because I'm not hurt, you just managed to put me off balance." He dusted off his clothing and reached a hand out to help Sarah stand. "Now we really can't afford to continue wasting time." Accepting Jareth's hand she stood before him a confused look on her face. "Come on, let's have another go at it." He knelt again. "Don't swing your leg over until you're at the top of my lift. Grab onto the mane and pull yourself up."

Hesitant, Sarah put her boot into the hammock made by Jareth's leather gloves once more. They were black leather riding boots Arulan had left her. She blamed her sudden lack of coordination on their chunky cubed heal. "Isn't it going to hurt if I pull on his hair?"

"Sarah, really. Since you don't know a damned thing about these creatures I hardly think you're in a position to argue. Now come on, we haven't got all day." Once more the king lifted her to even with the horses back.

Grabbing hold of two handfuls of mane, Sarah pulled herself onto the gelding's back. Only once she was perched up there could she appreciate how truly massive the horse was. Though she tried not to show it, the height made her dizzy. Gribbin handed her up the reigns which she received unsteadily. "It's easy," the farrier grumbled his accent sounded Hungarian to Sarah. "You wanna go right, you pull right. You wanna go left, you pull left. You wanna go, you kick with your heals. You wanna stop, too bad." He roared with laughter amused at his own wit. The rider he was instructing could find only panic in his humor. "I kid. Okay, you wanna stop, you pull straight back. Harder you pull faster he stop. You ready?"

Sarah nodded. Little did she realize Gribbin's lessons were over. He reared back his hand and slapped the horse's rump. Chataigne broke out in a gallop. "Gribbin!" the king disciplined. He swiftly mounted Bagheera and dug his heals into the animal's side as he chased down Chataigne. Sarah's body swung side to side atop her horse. Jareth was impressed with the amount of leg strength she displayed for someone who had never ridden. She pulled the reigns as she swayed making the confused saddlebred run serpentine over the grounds. When the king was finally able to get to them he tried using magic to settle the horse, but because Sarah was on its back he had no luck. "Damn!" Riding closer to the horse now, dangerously close, he reached out one hand and made a pass for Sarah's reigns. She toppled to the right and her gelding darted away. Jareth came up on the offside and tried again. This time he was successful and pulled the reigns back hard, halting both horses. Sarah was trembling. "Are you alright?" he asked her. When she didn't answer, he continued to hold the reigns and led both horses back to the fence where they had mounted.

Upon his return, Gribbin knelt, a weathered cotton hat being rung in his hands, as he apologized repeatedly. "Beg your pardon your highness. Beg your pardon milady. Beg your pardon the lot of you."

"Were you not such a fine farrier Gribbin, I'd deliver you straight into the bog." The Goblin King reached down and lifted his subject by the collar until he stood. Then, to be certain there was complete understanding between them, he lifted Gribbin to eye level, which was quite high considering Jareth had yet to dismount. "I shall not look so kindly upon misjudgments in the future."

"Nor would I expect you to your grace," the stableman choked.

Jareth released him from his grasp and he crumbled to the ground. "Go and bring the packs."

"Right away your grace."

Sarah looked at him her skin suddenly matching the color of her eyes, green. "Please get me off this thing."

Reluctant, but aware that the little race she'd run had truly frightened her, Jareth took her hand into his. "Lean over the side Sarah and just slide off. I'll catch you."

She did as he said, his hands catching her hips and lowering her feet to the ground. Sarah's hands came up over his forearms in an effort to brace herself. As much as she enjoyed being in his grasp again, the moment was wasted by just how ill she felt. Realizing he'd held her before him too long, Jareth released his grasp.

Sarah sat Indian style on the ground. "I'm not getting back on that thing. It hates me!"

"Ah," he said putting his hands to his own hips this time, "there's the child I remember from so many years ago. He was frightened and he acted rash, who are you to criticize?"

"I'm the one who almost got thrown eight feet to the ground. Who are you to force me back up there?"

"I've been thrown before, it's not that big of a deal. One way or another, Sarah, you will ride" Jareth crossed his arms over his puffed chest as he emphasized what was expected of her.

"Yeah well you're immortal and I'm not. I don't particularly want to die here." Tears she had meant to keep locked up began to fall.

The king had forgotten that she didn't have the same luxuries he did. She seemed to assimilate so well to being in the Underground it was sometimes easy to think of her as a mythical. To him she was fully comprised of magic. "Will you ride with me?"

"What?"

"You and I will ride on my stallion. I'll have Gribbin pack the gelding and when you're more comfortable, we'll rearrange the packing and give you back to Chataigne who I assure you has a far kinder and gentler side than you've been exposed to.

Sarah smiled at the irony of what was being said and by whom. "If we must make this journey, I would prefer to not ride alone until I am more comfortable with the horse."

"I'm afraid we must."

Gribbin busied himself while the king and his mortal bargained, tying up the tent and supplies to the back of the gelding. Some breads and cheeses which Arulan had bundled together with cured meats and a bottle of mead. "You're ready to go sire."

He looked at the horse, then at Gribbin and finally at Sarah, his glove reached down to her. "Shall we?"

Looking up at him, Sarah realized how very little he intimated her now. He could be fearsome. He could be cruel, but he no longer made her cower the way he could in her youth. She no longer feared him or the feelings that he stirred in her. With stinging contact, she slapped her hand into his, "I think we shall." There was a glimmer in her eye when she spoke. This was her chance to be alone with the king. Surprisingly, that had not occurred to her until now. She would make him realize again that he loved her, no matter what it took. His powers might have been usurped, but hers were just beginning to flourish.

Mounted atop Bagheera, Jareth looked like the king he was always meant to be. He was magnificent as the sun shone through his golden hair, his lower body blending in with the blackness of his steed making him seem as if he were an extension of the animal itself. Flexing his legs, he dug his heels into the animals' sides and Bagheera broke off. Jareth circled the animal back around and skillfully swept Sarah up by the elbow to swing her onto the horse's back behind him. She was lost in another daydream, completely unaware until she looked down and the ground was no longer at her feet. Jerking the stallion to a stop he heard Sarah let out a tiny cry as she almost lost her balance for the second time and the king, who had yet to let her go, tightened his hold and said over his shoulder, "Hold on."

Obediently her arms encircled his waist hooking her thumbs around a metal buckle that held his vest closed figuring that was the least conspicuous place to settle her hands. Gribbin worked to fix the gelding's reigns into the packing mount on Bagheera's rear. "You're all set your majesty."

Two quick kicks, this time delivered slowly into the horse's sides, and they ambled off at a steady pace, one much more comfortable to Sarah. Or perhaps it wasn't the horse's pace which brought her comfort at all.

It was just after ten in the morning when they reached the door to the Labyrinth. Hoggle was waiting, at Jareth's request. When he'd left Sarah the day before to 'go about the business of the Labyrinth', he had informed the dwarf of her status. After a thorough reprimand, which included three months of extra duties, the king promised that he could see the mortal one last time before they appealed to the Triumvirate to send her Aboveground. Annoyed at seeing them sharing a horse, the dwarf snorted as they approached.

"Hedge hog," the king called when they were still several feet away, "open the gates."

"It's Hoggle and I ain't doin' anythin' until I hears Sarah tell me she's alright."

"I'm fine Hoggle, really," Sarah admitted when they were finally able to see one another. "Just a little bump on the head."

"Bump on the head, my foot!" When he spoke again, he directed his attention to the king, "Take her there," he pointed at the mountains, "if that's what you have to do, Jareth. Send her home if that's what you want, but you best make certain that no harm comes to this girl, otherwise,"

Unimpressed with any threat the dwarf could feasible offer, the king interrupted. "Otherwise what Higgle?" Sarah whispered Hoggle into the king's ear, but it went unnoticed without even causing a pause in his tirade. "Otherwise you shall borrow a step ladder and give me a ruddy good kick in the knee? Or perhaps you'll come to my castle while I sleep and pummel me with tiny fists until I wake up?"

Knowing there was nothing he could do to hurt Jareth, Hoggle backed down, "I just don't wanna sees her hurt is all."

Jareth shook Bagheera's reigns. "In a few moments, you won't see her at all.

As they began to walk the horses away Hoggle tossed Sarah a bundle of muffins and cakes that Drema had made for her. A picture of his family was neatly tucked inside. "Goodbye Sarah," he called to her.

She spun her head over her left shoulder, "Bye Hoggle. Thanks for everything," she called back. Then with great slowness and exaggeration, so that he could make it out she mouthed, 'I'll be fine.'

For three hours they rode on in near silence. Occasionally, Sarah would ask some question about the maze or make some comment about it's new state of repair. Jareth would acknowledge her with a word or two in response, but never answering more than she asked.

"Don't you think we should take a break? I'd really like to stretch my legs and eat something." Sarah said when noon had come and gone without any chance to get down from the horse.

"It's only been a few hours, Sarah." Jareth reminded her. "We'll take a break when we get out of the Labyrinth."

Was he serious? Maybe the Goblin King was used to riding for days on end, but not this mortal. "Well how long does that take?"

Did she need to make everything so complicated. "It depends. Now without you I could snap my fingers and be to the Triumvirate in a couple of seconds. Being made to do this the mortal way, I could feasibly manage this thing in five hours, but since the horses would not be able to travel through the tunnels and passageways beneath the surface, it's going to take us at least nine. If we run it straight through we can be out of here before night fall. The more of these little stretching sessions you care to engage in, the longer it takes us to get out and the more night time we get to spend in the maze. Care to find another Pooka to ride off with?"

"No," she said sounding defeated. Sarah was tired. She hadn't slept well the night before, partly in anticipation of today and partly from knowing that Jareth was sleeping a few feet away. With one hand she undid the bundle that Hoggle had tossed her. She found the picture on top and smiled. Then she took out two of the muffins Drema had made. They were smaller than the muffins made Aboveground, but larger than bite-sized mini muffins and they smelled divine. There was a streusel topping baked on. Biting into one she savored the cinnamon apple filling, "Mmmh."

"What are you going on about?" Jareth asked when he began to get distracted by the sounds she was omitting.

"Here, taste," Sarah told him as she held the second muffin to his lips. He hesitated. "Go on, they're delicious."

"I'm not hungry."

"Just try a bite. What do you think I poisoned it so I could make an attempt to escape again?"

"You may have." Sarah shoved the muffin into his mouth forcing him to take a bite while he mumbled on in protest sending crumbs flying from his lips in all directions. Sarah giggled. Once he was able to clear his mouth he said to her, "That was dignified." Bringing the back of one of his gloves to his mouth, he wiped away what remained.

"Just finish it," Sarah told him holding what was left of the muffin to his lips.

"I hope your parents never let you feed Toby," Jareth chided as he opened his mouth to accept her offering.

More delicately, she set the muffin inside his parted jaws, grazing his lips with her finger tips as she backed her hand away. The king sat frozen, his mouth agape, his lips tingling from her touch. 'Chew you idiot!' his mind screamed and like an obedient dog, the joint began to function in an exaggerated circular motion that made him feel like a cow.

Sarah redid the bundle as best she could with one hand and replaced her arm about Jareth's waist. "You really don't want to stop yet?"

"No." And just like that they were back to a game of questions and one worded answers.

Deciding she would rather not speak to him at all when he was behaving this way, her eyes went closed and she allowed the warm air to lull her into sleep. Only as they rode, the sleeping mortal bobbed side to side. "Stop fidgeting!" Jareth shouted when a few times he almost lost his balance as well.

"Sorry, I must have nodded off." Sarah apologized, but having tasted sleep her head could no longer hold itself up. Resting her head on the king's shoulder she settled in for a nap. The smell of his leather vest filled her nose and the ends of his wild blonde hair tickled the back of her neck. A warm breeze continuing to kiss around her face, everything felt like spring.

Jareth opened his mouth to say something, pausing a moment to debate whether it should be an order or a jabbing remark, but instead he let himself enjoy the feel of her, the comfort of her closeness and for a moment he fooled himself into believing that she trusted him. They continued on their ride a few hours more. Afforded the freedom of his passenger's slumber he could enjoy looking around, eagerly observing the improvements within the Labyrinth. The stone walls had grown sturdy, mosses and ivy were beginning to grow up and cascade over their sides, statues that had worn down to little more than misshapen pillars were taking form. His soul had made her very powerful indeed. He began to wonder what long since forgotten corners of the Labyrinth might look like. With that he was damning night to come and try to trick them inside the maze. This was his, the lot of it, he was king of everything inside these winding walls and outside for that matter. Even without his magic they could not deny his title. The king pulled hard on his stallion's reigns turning Bagheera sharply left. They would make one small detour he'd decided. They would have dinner someplace Jareth had not seen since his childhood.

Waking the sleeping mortal proved difficult. First Jareth called her name. Next he tried moving his shoulder about. Then he endeavored to rousing her by tapping her hands which were still clasped around the buckle of his coat. That got her to stretch her long arms out, smoothing them over his leather breeches. The king watched intently as her delicate hands ran down three quarters of the length of his thigh and then paused and retraced their steps until her forearms rested limply on the crooks of his legs, her hands hanging just in front of his crotch, but not quite touching. That certainly wasn't helping anything. He tried flogging the reigns to get the horse to mill around a bit. Sarah clutched to his chest, but remained resting in the arms of Morpheus.

The time for subtlety had come and gone. Jareth tilted his head over the shoulder where she slept and in a booming shout called out, "Rise and shine."

Sarah jumped. The king, still fairly amused with himself held her arms to keep her from sliding right off of the horse. This gesture was not appreciated by the mortal who only wanted to focus on what mischief her driver had engaged in. Once she'd regained her balance, Sarah pulled her arms from his hold and swatted him on the shoulder which had held her head only moments earlier. "What were you thinking shouting at me like that?" A furious growl rumbled in her throat. "I could have fallen again."

"You're not likely to rise without a cannon shot going overhead, besides I had hold of you the entire time." He suppressed most of a chuckle and rounded his shoulders as another blow struck his right side, setting loose a chain of uncontrollable laughter. "Come," he said composing himself and holding his hands up above his shoulders. "You do still want to stretch, do you not?"

In fact, she did even more so now that she had rested. Her hands slid over his gloves and letting her right leg wrap round the back of the horse she let Jareth assist her to the ground and then watched as he dismounted expertly. They were in the middle of a huge garden. "Are we still in the Labyrinth?" Sarah asked when she did not recognize this spot from her prior visits.

"Indeed," Jareth replied. He snapped his crop off Bagheera's rump and sent him running.

Amazed at how much room the creature had to do so Sarah looked around. There were benches and arches, stone pathways and acres of flowerbeds which spotted the garden, but most impressive was the fountain in a far corner of the garden and the weeping willow tree which was at the center of it all. She knew the water feature had to be massive, just by seeing it standing in reference to Bagheera who was drinking from its pool. The 1500 pound stallion looked like a sheepdog. "What is it that's caught your eye?" The Goblin King was at her ear.

She jumped, just as she had once before when he warned her, 'It's further than you think.' Sarah looked to the side at him, first his mouth, then his eyes and finally his mouth again. "Statue," she stammered, "I was trying to make out that statue." A shaky hand rose and a slim finger jerked in the direction of the fountain.

Gloved fingers rested on the small of her back, the king's other hand gesturing before them as he guided her forward. Jareth was giddy, like a schoolboy, to be back in the spot his mother had created, the haven she'd made for herself after his father died, where she attempted to find some happiness before she too joined him. Everything there was to know about this garden, he knew. As a child he had played here. The king liked to think that this place represented all that was good about the Leanan Sidhe and all that was unknown about his father. At the edge of the fountain, Sarah broke her reflection in the water by jabbing at it with her finger. When the water settled, Jareth's face was staring back from beside hers. It was the first time she'd ever seen the two of them together. The image created a strange fluttering in her stomach. In an effort to forget one romantic image for another, Sarah tilted her head back and stared into the face of Cupid.

"A mischievous little child," Jareth told her as he sat on the fountain's edge. "Cupid was the son of Venus. He ran about shooting his arrows at humans and gods, causing them to fall deeply in love. There was one human who it was rumored was so beautiful she was often mistaken for Venus herself, Psyche, who was very beautiful indeed. Furious, Venus sent her son to see to it that the mortal fell in love with the most unattractive outcast in the mortal realm. But, when Cupid looked upon the mortal, he was no longer able to complete his task, for he saw the beauty that the others had spoken of and fell in love with the girl. He took her to his palace and was very generous to her, asking only that she never look upon him in the light."

"Why?" Sarah interrupted as she gazed upon him, her eyes traveling from head to toe grateful for the opportunity.

"Because he was a god and that is how the Romans determined it would be." He continued on from where she had stopped him, " Each night, Cupid would join her and in the morning he would be gone. With some prompting from her sisters, Psyche's curiosity finally got the better of her and she wondered if the man she loved were beauty or beast. Late one night she took an oil lamp and cast the light upon his sleeping face. What she discovered was that he was not, in fact, the wretched monster others had led her to believe, but instead he was more handsome than she could have imagined. Shocked by his beauty she jumped causing some of the oil to spill onto Cupid's shoulder and wake him. As you might imagine, he was hurt and angry that she had defied him and so he left her and with him vanished their palace and their gardens, Psyche was left alone in an empty field. Finally realizing what had been hers was true love all along and she had broken it. She searched for him endlessly with great remorse in her heart. Finally, in desperation, she went to see Venus." Sarah listened with fierce curiosity to his tale, her mind trying desperately to ignore the similarities to their own strange paths.

"Venus wanted to destroy her and so she assigned her a series of tasks, each more difficult and dangerous as they went along. But Psyche met each challenge and returned victorious. Her final task would take her deep into Hades to request some of Proserpine's beauty in an effort to make up for the wear on Venus because of this whole matter between her and Cupid." She loved to watch him tell the story. The way his hands moved to indicate the box or the way his face would furrow while he spoke with such animation. "Proserpine gave her a gold box which did not contain beauty at all. Psyche was told not to look into the box, but of course she did, this time her curiosity had rewarded her with a Stygian sleep. Cupid, now healed from the burn of the hot oil and ready to forgive Psyche for her disobedience, was in search of his beloved. When he found her he held her in his arm's suddenly aware of just how much he loved the mortal. He then delivered the box to Venus and went to Zeus to beg him to intervene on behalf of his love. The gods, especially Jupiter, were so moved by his love for her, they agreed to make her immortal. Jupiter gave Psyche a cup of nectar to drink which turned her into a goddess. Venus was far less appalled by the thought of her when she was no longer a mortal. Thus, Cupid and Psyche could be together forever without the interference of anyone.

Sarah thought over it a moment, the story of this god, Cupid, who fell in love with a mortal and she could have drawn any of a hundred similarities between this story and her own, but instead she asked Jareth, "I don't see what the big deal is about wanting to look at the man you love."

"You're missing the point," he said frustrated that she seemed to not notice that Cupid had merely asked Psyche to let him rule her and she could have everything she wanted. "This god asked only one thing of his mortal lover and she was too childish to give him even that. She listened to everyone else when they said he was a monster rather than trusting him. What reason did he ever give her not to trust him?" The king was bellowing now.

"He only came to her at night. How was she supposed to know?"

"It shouldn't have mattered, she should have loved him not for what he was but for who."

Not being much a feminist until then, Sarah asked, "Why did it always have to be his way?"

Jareth stood, slamming the back of one hand against the palm of the other, "Because he was a god!"

"And she was a lady, didn't the Romans have chivalry?"

"Chivalry is not giving some insolent child her way and granting her permission to ravage your palace and you lands." That being said, the king turned from her his coat rising as he did so, and his paces leading him back to Chataigne.

It could have been reasoned that Jareth had spoken of the luxuries that Cupid took with him when he left Psyche, but as Sarah sat slack jawed on the edge of that fountain she couldn't help remembering how much different the Labyrinth had looked only yesterday before she arrived. Something inside told her Jareth spoke of something more intimate, something personal, of his kingdom and his lands that she had ravaged. An aching heart skipped a beat inside her heavy chest. Bringing herself to her feet, she glanced up at the statue once more. The face was handsome she agreed, god-like and distinguished, but it did not impress her. She had looked into the mismatched eyes of love and refused them. Though he was not a god, perhaps Jareth was no beast either, this king who had tried to love her in every way he knew how. Sullenly, Sarah followed in his dejected footsteps, still with no understanding of what it was like to be in his shoes.

What Arulan had packed them filled their hunger, but nothing seemed to block up the silence which settled between them. Finally, frustrated by the quiet Sarah said, "The flowers in this garden are lovely."

"They were meant to be heard, not seen." Jareth's words came cryptically, causing her to screw up her face with confusion. "My mother constructed this garden as a way to honor my dead father. Some place she thought she could come to remember him and be satisfied with just those memories, but instead it grew to torment her, mock her and force her to flee the Labyrinth entirely."

"I don't understand," the mortal admitted.

Not surprised, Jareth spat, "I don't imagine you would."

She tried to exhibit some patience with. While it would have been easy for her to apologize and then to move on, she was too stubborn to concede and sarcasm filled her words where compassion left off, "Try me."

"The meaning of things is crucial here. There are no accidents. Nothing that happens in the Labyrinth is ever by coincidence Sarah. Every stone, every plant, every door and tunnel, while each of them may seem random and chaotic, was created with purpose. Even the inanimate have things to say merely by being." Jareth rose from the bench where he had sat to eat and went to the willow tree in the center of the garden, ducking beneath its drooping branches to rest his back against the trunk.

"So it's symbolic," Sarah caught on. "The Leanan Sidhe planted a willow as a symbol of her mourning."

"And yet it's more," he told her his voice rich with sincerity now that the leaves could hide his eyes from hers. "I could never find words to explain to you how deeply we fey are capable of feeling things. This tree was not just planted to show my mother's mourning. It was watered with her tears that some of what she felt might leave her body and lighten it." He strolled out from beneath the branches to a nearby bed which hosted an array of bachelor's buttons. Most of them were blue, but a few had managed to come up in shades of yellow, orange and red. First he told Sarah the flowers name and then explained, "These represent celibacy. A vow mother took after father died. Not only would she never love another man, but she would never take them to her bed even in an effort to satisfy her most basic urges."

"Daisies?" It was half question and half an attempt to switch the topic from urges onto anything else. "Did your mother pick the petals wondering if your father still loved her, even after death?"

"She may have. But those are a symbol of innocent and loyal love. When others spoke of her as a vixen, a puppeteer of the heart strings, mother sometimes lost sight of the fact that she did love father in the truest way, in the same way as Cupid and Psyche loved one another. Only mother's innocence could be as deadly as the box which Venus gave to the mortal, but she never knew." The third prevalent flower in the garden was Acacia, a bright yellow flower which the king explained was a symbol of secret love, "Because they were different, my parents, because father's parents weren't able to appreciate my mother's," Jareth struggled with telling her just how similar to the Roman gods Ian and the Leanan Sidhe had been, "heritage," he finally came up with, "their love was made secret for some time." Jareth moved to stand before another yellow flower in the garden, the pansy. "This is to let father know that when he looks in on us, though he is gone, we shall never cease to think of him. The living and the dead rarely communicate with each, but the meaning of a flower is universal over time, space and astral plane." He braced his hands in the concave arch where rich purple flowers tumbled down onto his forearms, "Lastly these are cobaea scandens, representative of the gossip that hung over their heads and surrounded their relationship all the days they shared together."

What had been a remarkable garden only an hour ago was now something far superior. Sarah looked at it again through eyes that had been opened to the intensity of what the flowers said. Tears rolled over her lower lids and she turned to wipe them away. "How do you know all this and yet not know your mother?"

Jareth became aware, by her question, that he was letting down too much of his guard and answered abruptly, "Others told me tales when I was young. We should continue on our way for time is growing short. I should not have brought you here." He whistled for his horse.

Bagheera came swiftly to his side and Jareth knelt to offer Sarah a leg up as he had before. "No, thank you," she told him. "I think I'm ready to try riding alone." She took Chataigne's snout into her hands and scratched at his cheeks while the king unfastened his packs from her horse and repositioned them on to his stallion.

"Along the blaze," he instructed her.

"Excuse me?"

Dropping his packs at her feet, Jareth rose a leather glove to the horses head. "This marking," he stroked over an elongated white marking on Chataigne's face, "is called a blaze. It seems to be the beast's favored spot for stroking." Indeed, the gelding leaned into the king's gentle touch. Sarah didn't blame him. As she watched Jareth being tender with the animal, the way he was just then, she regretted announcing her independence and readiness to command Chataigne, but it was too late to take it back now. Her hand lifted to join his and no sooner did she make contact with the blaze then his hand left.

'Fine,' she thought. 'Be that way.' Gathering up the bundle from Drema which still held a cake and several muffins as well as the photo, she tucked it into her packing and set about her damnedest to mount Chataigne. The horse ambled out of her reach a few times causing her to fall on her rump. She tried standing on the concrete benches in order to give some height to her attempts, but it was fruitless.

"Leg up?" he asked from the ground beneath her.

"Thank you," she said once he had helped her into position on the gelding's back.

Jareth mounted his horse and turned to her, "And so you see chivalry does still exist."

Sarah blushed.

Trailing behind Bagheera, Chataigne followed the stallion and his master out of the Labyrinth proving to Sarah that he was every bit the gentle creature she was told he could be. But it was not the horse that was on her mind. Nor was it the Labyrinth, both parts she recognized and other foreign segments, which were now fully repaired and flourishing with life. The mortal was hypnotized instead with the king and the regal way he commanded his beast with a patience that he rarely displayed and an ever present grace. A time or two he had looked behind him to be certain that the gelding had not wondered off to some distraction, but mostly he rode back straight, eyes front, with determination and purpose.

Evenings shadows were being swallowed up by the dark mouth of night as it engulfed the corridors they traveled through. The king ignited a lantern. Sarah halted her horse so that she could see what he was doing. He rose a hand to indicate she should stay where she was and then began pacing Bagheera back and forth. "It should be here," he repeated as they went over and over the same section of wall.

"What are you looking for?" Sarah asked frightened by his confusion.

"The door. It should be right around here some place."

Knowing that was their goal, to find the door, and already having felt what night inside the Labyrinth was like, Sarah began looking too. Her lantern took several tries to light, but it was worth the effort for it's rays revealed a large set of double wooden doors just back the path a little way. "I think I found them," she shouted and turned Chataigne in their direction. Jareth followed fast behind.

"So you have," he acknowledged as he dismounted. His strong arms folded as he attempted to press the doors open. Even several attempts to ram them with a shoulder were unsuccessful.

"What are you doing?" Sarah called to him. "Use your magic."

"I can't."

"You can't use your magic on me, why can't you use it on the door?"

Moving to stand beside her horse in the glow of her lamp he explained, "I have no power when it comes to you. I could open the door, go through, set up camp, but you would have to remain here. Do you wish to spend the night inside the Labyrinth without me?" Sarah shook her head. "Then unless you can pick a lock, we'll be camping here together."

"It so happens that I can pick a lock," the mortal told him proudly. "Karen had this drawer where she kept things, things she didn't think I knew about, didn't want me to know about. She locked it every time she and daddy left the house. She made it seem so elicit I just had to see inside, so I learned to pick the lock."

"And what did you find inside?"

Her cheeks donned the same blush they had when Jareth had created the masquerade just for her, "I'd rather not say." The king took the lantern from her hand and set it on the ground by his, offering his arms for her aid. On the ground, Sarah found a sturdy stick and flattened one of the jagged sides. Tinkering with the lock, she twisted the stick in a multitude of directions and obscure angles attempting to roll the tumblers and open the door. "Oh," she said collapsing against the door in frustration, "this would be so much easier if we had a key." Her hand smoothed over the stick once more as she prepared to blunt the other end and give it another try. The duo looked on in awe as the chipping bark that went under her palm became a gleaming metal in the glow of the oil lamps. When her fingers slipped over the end, tiny squared teeth hung from the bottom of the shaft.

"How'd you do that?" Jareth asked.

"I haven't the foggiest," Sarah admitted before swiping her hand over the other end of the stick and making it into a handle by which to turn the key. She set it inside the key hole and turned until she heard the click. Gently she pressed against the doors and sent them swinging wide. Once fully opened, the key vanished.

"So it's true, you do have magic." The king knew that she could wish for things and his powers would serve her within reason and he knew that she had mortal magic which he had ignited with his soul, but he never dreamed it could be so useful.

"Of course I have magic, you gave it to me, remember?"

"I never gave you magic like that. It's you being ere that's making my Labyrinth repair, isn't it?" She looked away shyly in admission. "What you've done for the Labyrinth, helping it regrow, that's from what piece of my soul you own. Your wishes being granted, yes, but this, this is far greater magic than I ever gave you."

For a minute she felt sick. "You didn't give me the visions then?" hesitation heavy in her words.

"What visions?"

"Never mind, forget I said anything."

The doors were beginning to slowly close. Jareth handed Sarah her lantern and picked up his own. They walked their horses through the gate which slammed shut immediately upon their passage through. "I'd still like to know how in the Underground you managed that little trick," he reminded her as he set to pitching their camp for the night.

"It's like you said, everything here serves it's purpose." Sarah wanted to make it seem completely natural. She didn't want him asking all kinds of questions she wouldn't be able to answer or worse, would be incriminated by.

"That's not what I said." His voice filled with impatience and while it could have been at the kindling which refused to ignite, Sarah guessed it was with her.

"Well it's true isn't it?"

"And so it is," he declared stepping back having successfully ignited a fire. If starting a flame had been trying, pitching a tent was even more so by half. The king fumbled with the steel bits and the canvas tarp, cursing under his breath so as not to offend Sarah, who sat by the fire keeping warm and staying amused as she watched him. "Don't know what you're laughing at," Jareth told her, "you've got one to set up too."

"No I don't," she insisted as she finished another of the muffins Drema had sent along.

From beneath several folds of canvas the king growled, "You most certainly do. I'm not doing it for you. Chivalry is one thing, but servitude is another."

"I don't expect you to do anything for me," she retorted wiping her hands together ridding them of crumbs. "I haven't got a tent. The only things in my pack are for cooking with and the clothes that Arulan put together for me."

Giving up his fight with the fabric, Jareth lie back looking up at the stars, "Unbelievable," he sighed. Sarah moved to help him with the tent, "I can get it," he insisted. Tossing the fabric off of himself and standing back to look at everything once more, one hand at his hip, the other at his chin. "Right then," he removed his coat and pushed up the flouncy sleeves of his half open shirt.

The mortal chuckled as she watched him trying to fit the frame together. Without waiting for him to request her assistance she stooped next to him and began assembling the pieces of metal.

"You don't have to do that," Jareth told her.

"I don't mind. I get the impression that the women of the Underground are, how do I say this without seeming crass, just so." The king smiled at her comment. In fact the fey women of the Underground were exactly 'just so' as it were. Other species' women worked, sometimes like men, sometimes harder, but the fey always seemed to think it was unnecessary. He turned his face away when he felt his smile growing too large. "Well," Sarah continued, "that's just not like me."

"I suppose it isn't," the king agreed as he began to fit a few of the assembled rods through the edges of the canvas. "This is really starting to look like something you could sleep in."

It took them nearly an hour, but eventually the shabby green canvas looked almost like it should have and the pile of spare parts had shrunk to a manageable number that could be inventoried with just one hand. Jareth tied their food into a tree and told Sarah to season the cast iron skillet while he was gone. "Gone where?" she asked quicky not much wishing to be left alone out here.

"You want a proper dinner don't you? You'll be fine, nothing more than a chipmunk or a pixie would be out now." That said, he transformed into his owl form and flew off over the gently sloping hills which faced the Labyrinth.

As she was told, Sarah seasoned the skillet placing it into the fire and singeing the herbs and spices until they remained stuck to the bottom of the pan, scraping out the excess for a smooth cooking surface. Rustling could be heard in the distance and she hugged herself wishing Jareth hadn't gone off. Passing the time, she sung to herself as she rocked back and forth beside the fire. "When you walk through a storm keep your chin up high and don't be afraid of the dark. At the end of the storm is a golden sky and…" A flapping of wings made her stop the soothing melody in time to see Jareth changing back into his fey shape and touching his feet down without disturbing a single blade of grass.

Withdrawing a bundle from the crook of his arm he set it into the frying pan. Sarah was still by the fire's edge, leaning back in awe of what she had just witnessed. "Come now Sarah, surely you've seen owls before?"

"Yeah, but I've never seen them turn into Goblin Kings and vice versa."

"Impressive isn't it?" he asked smoothing his hands over his leather vest and joining her by the fire where he could tend to the rabbit filets which he had gotten them.

Truthfully, it was impressive, but damned if she'd admit that to him. Instead she simply shrugged her shoulders and asked, "What's in the frying pan?"

"Dinner."

She'd been away too long and forgotten how to ask questions properly. "What's for dinner?"

"Rabbit."

"Where'd you get rabbit?"

He furrowed his elegant brow at the mortal, "Just over the hill there's a butcher's shop." Finally Sarah realized what the rustling was, why Jareth had switched his form. She curled her lips and wrinkled her nose. She had no interest in a fresh kill. The king noticed her hesitation, "Oh you haven't even tried it yet," he scolded as he turned the filets in the skillet.

It really didn't smell that bad, it was more the idea she was having trouble with. 'Just like when Karen wanted to serve caviar at one of her parties,' Sarah thought. 'Give it a try, the worst you can do is throw up.' She handed him two plates from her pack and while he finished the rabbit filets, she poured some mead into the cups.

Jareth watched Sarah as she pushed the filet around on her plate. "Tell me then, does your magic allow you to taste things with your eyes?"

"Of course it doesn't!"

"Then you better try putting some of that in your mouth before it gets cold."

Sarah smirked at the king, now completely aware that she was being watched. The meat broke tenderly with just the edge of her fork. Chewing slowly, she waited as the flavor began to reach her tastebuds. She winced in anticipation of a taste which never came. The meat was delicious, tender and seasoned from what she had seared into the pan earlier. The king smiled as he watched her inhale three more small bites before washing it down with some mead. Slapping her lips together in appreciation, Sarah looked into the cup she was drinking from. "This is really good. It tastes sweet, like honey."

"It is honey," Jareth said flatly.

"Oh."

"So the meal is to your liking?"

"Yes, very much so." She stole a quick look at him out of the corner of her eyes, but quickly averted her stare when she realized he was looking back.

When she had finished her dinner and several cups of mead, Sarah yawned. "I'll clean up," the Goblin King offered. "You need to get your rest for tomorrow."

"What about you? Aren't you going to rest?"

"I'll get rest, don't worry about me."

"But,"

"I said," he repeated deep and slow, "don't worry about me."

Once inside the tent, Sarah traded her riding clothes for the white lace panties she'd packed before she'd tried to come Underground and the old comfortable button up shirt that she had brought from home. She crawled in under the blankets, making note that there was only one bed prepared inside. Her mind was suddenly wide awake at the thought of the king sliding in next to her. After lying their a while, now too anxious to sleep, she poked her head out of the tent looking for Jareth.

Against a tree that faced the entrance of the tent, the Goblin King leaned, one lengthy leg crossed over the other. Eyes closed, his chest rose and fell in steady rhythm. Sarah watched him for a few moments, taking in the way his elegant eyebrows had relaxed and fallen on his vulnerable face. Long blonde strands fell over his lips and nose bobbing and swaying in reaction to his breath. Something compelled her to get closer to him. Slowly she padded her way across the grass until she was nose to nose with the king, her face a fraction of an inch from his.

Without so much as a flinch for warning, Jareth's eyes snapped open and his gloved hands wrapped around Sarah's elbows making her gasp. He grabbed her hard pulling her to him, he screamed, "What are you doing!"

Sarah stammered for words, shocked at how he had gone from innocent to menacing in a second's span. "I was just wondering why you weren't in bed and came looking for you."

"You didn't think I was coming in there to sleep with you?" he asked releasing his hold on the mortal.

"Well I certainly didn't think you'd lean up against a tree to get some shut eye," she answered him.

"I haven't the desire to share quarters with you. I'm sorry if you find that disappointing."

Hurt washed over her face. "Fine," she spat at him as she turned to go back to the tent. She threw open the door and stooped over to crawl inside. Just then Jareth realized that her legs were bare. His eyes followed them up from the ankles. By the time he reached the white lacy bottoms of her panties peeking out from beneath the edge of her shirt he was regretting everything he had just said. Truthfully, he had a great desire to share quarters with her, one that was beginning to strain the fabric of his breeches as he kept watching her, but he had no desire to give any more of himself away.


	18. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - HAVEN'T I SEEN ALL THIS SOMEWHERE BEFORE**

Watching the sun come up had become one of Jareth's new hobbies since the mortal had reentered his realm. Like a ball of fire it broke the easy peacefulness of the horizon, making the Underground seem to shudder for a split second as it did so. Inside the tent, Sarah continued to sleep. 'How does her kind do it?' he wondered, thinking of the lazy way mortals had of sleeping away a third of their lives or more. Fey could be completely functional on as little as three hours of sleep a night, sometimes forgoing the luxury all together if it was necessary. The Goblin King's first instinct was to swing open the flap and barge inside, demanding she wake up. Then he recalled the way in which she had gone to bed last night and decided to wait another hour or so to see if she would rise on her own. In the meanwhile, he quenched the fire they had made and took down their packs so that he could ready the horses. Walking Bagheera and Chataigne to a nearby pond he allowed them to drink until they were content and then took them back to their campsite.

As he expected, Sarah had yet to stir. They had a lot of ground yet to cover and the Triumvirate was expecting them promptly at seven in the evening of the third day. "Sarah," he called as he threw open the tent flap. She was kneeling on the ground, her back to the tent opening, wearing her riding pants and a bra, brushing out her long black hair preparing to wind it into a bun.

When she heard Jareth call for her, she didn't jump, didn't move to cover herself, instead she just continued the long even strokes with the brush, confident that he would never invade her privacy after what he'd said to her last night. "Yes," she replied without even turning around.

Jareth backed out of the tent suddenly feeling as if he were intruding. "We've got to get going if we're going to keep on schedule."

"Be right out," she called tucking the ends of her hair under the bun she'd made. Nervously she worked at straightening the waist of one of her sweaters as she came out of the tent.

The king looked at her, fresh from sleep and seeming radiant, padded riding pants giving her an exaggerated shape that made her seem even more voluptuous. "Have something to eat. I'll take down the tent and get it packed."

"I can help. I mean, I wouldn't want to condemn you to my servitude." Silently she chastised herself. She'd promised she would try her best not to be defensive or confrontational with him today, but it never worked. It seemed as if everything he said was an invitation to be argumentative.

"No thank you. If it takes you as long to eat as it does to rest, it'll be lunch before you finish breakfast."

"Isn't there anything you take your time doing?" She protested as she dug out a couple of Drema's muffins and the canteen of water.

If it hadn't been for his heightened sense, the Goblin King probably would not have heard her last remark. He smiled to himself wickedly. "There are a few things," he said under his breath as he lifted the cushion which had served her as last night's pillow to his face and inhaled her scent. Then he quickly finished clearing the tent and breaking it down.

While Jareth cursed at the bits of steel that had given him so much trouble the day before, Sarah was wishing she had something other than water to drink. Testing her magic, she picked up one of the stones that made up the pit their fire had burned in. Concentrating on a fresh juicy orange she slid her hand over it turning the stony shell into a fleshy orange. Completing the transformation, Sarah dug in with her fingernail. Easily piercing the flesh, Sarah pulled the rind aside eager to get to the tender fruit. Pulling off one of the sections, she shoved it into her mouth and bit down. Looked and tasted real. That was promising. A few times she repeated the process until she had a half dozen or so of the succulent fruit at her dispose. She emptied her canteen and began squeezing the fruit over the mouth piece listening impatiently as she heard the stream of juices rushing inside.

By the time the king finished his chore with the tent, Sarah was downing the last bite of a muffin and swigging from the canteen. She passed it to Jareth and encouraged him to drink as well. Of course he hesitated, but when the sweet familiar smell filled his nose, he reconsidered. "Where'd you get orange juice?" he asked the mortal.

"From oranges," she replied. The mythicals of the Underground weren't the only one's who could play these games.

One eye half closed in her direction, knowing full well he'd asked the wrong question. "Where did you get oranges from?"

"I made them from stones," Sarah said as if it were something she did every morning at home.

"Well it's quite good." Was that a compliment from the fearsome Goblin King? Sarah smiled as he handed her back the canteen. "Are your things packed?"

"All but this canteen," she told him. As had become customary, he knelt at her feet and gave her the leg up she needed to mount Chataigne. A full day's ride lie ahead of them

Close to the Labyrinth's walls, they rode on. In the distance Sarah could see the southwestern sector. The pond she had visited only days earlier still half frozen over and reflecting the sun like a large mirror laid on the ground. She smiled remembering Gandor and what he had done to Tiberon. "Jareth," she called. His head turned slowly over his right shoulder looking at her oddly, for they didn't engage in much conversation when they rode. "Can we go through there?" Sarah asked pointing to the southwest sector.

"No, we're riding north."

"But we're so close. I'd like to say hello to Gandor."

Jareth brought Bagheera to a dead stop. "How do you know Gandor?"

What was the big deal? "He helped out with a little problem I was having with Tiberon."

"Tiberon! Gandor! Well, have you met the Triumvirate too? Is this trip in vain? Who gave you permission to go milling about introducing yourself to anyone you please? I'll have their heads for this insubordination. Someone should have reported you to me immediately." The king was beyond furious.

"I don't see what the big deal is. I stayed with Hoggle for a couple of days before I came into the Labyrinth. When we were walking home we ran into Tiberon. He was a bit," her mind searched frantically for a word that would sum things up without further infuriating the king, "overbearing."

No such luck keeping her innuendo under Jareth's radar. "What do you mean overbearing?"

"He was very suggestive with me."

While his demeanor remained no more irate than it had been before her confession, his insides boiled. So when his informants told him that Tiberon intended to court a woman, it was Sarah who was the woman of which they spoke. Had he not made it clear fifteen years ago that this mortal was his? "And you were responsive to his suggestion?"

"No!" He eyed her as if he had trouble understanding her response. Sarah repeated, "No, I was not. In fact, there was this rabbit who Hoggle tricked into helping us. He got Gandor to threaten Tiberon and he never bothered me after that." She smiled at him coyly in an attempt to diffuse the situation, "Are you jealous?"

"Don't be ridiculous! It could have been a very dangerous situation for you is all. Tiberon has always had a chip on his shoulder when it comes to me and I hate to think of what he could be capable of. Why I wouldn't be surprised if it had been him who released the Pooka into my Labyrinth the night it found you." For a minute the anger faded from Jareth's face and Sarah thought she saw concern. "Now, if you continue to waste time, we will be late for our meeting with the Triumvirate."

Who was he to open a can of worms, yell at her, insinuate such things and then just turn his stallion around and ride away as if nothing had ever happened, all under the guise of keeping to a schedule? "You're right Jareth. Perhaps I ought to pick up the pace a little. Yah!" She cried digging her heals into Chataigne's sides. The horse broke into a graceful trot and with another quick jab, a thunderous gallop. Sarah was wild in the wind, feeling like an extension of the gelding. The world around her a blur in the creature's wake. The gently rolling hills her playground. A wide smile spread over her face as she succumbed to all the freedom the Underground had to offer.

"Yah, yah," Jareth cried behind her as his heals stabbed into Bagheera's sides encouraging him to catch the young gelding. "Sarah! Sarahཀ" the king repeatedly shouted in a vain effort to regain her attention, but she was lost to a magic of her own, shared between woman and beast. As much as Jareth knew he had to stop her, he was not blind to how fabulous she looked as the sun reflected off the rich blackness of her hair. A few strands had come loose from the bun she'd wound that morning and trailed behind her like an extension of the golden's mane. Chataigne's coat was alive with light, giving them a certain hazy dream like quality as they cut through the air, his hooves barely touching the ground. The smile on the mortal's face genuine, spurned from true enthusiasm. "Sarah please!"

Pulling back on the reigns of the speeding creature brought an abrupt halt to joy ride. "What did you say?"

"You don't even know where you're going and the horse is going to tire long before we reach water if you continue riding him that way." All the gentility from his voice gone.

"I was just trying to make up time." She said it meekly, as if it had been Karen complaining once again about whatever it was Sarah couldn't do properly. It made her skin crawl and her stomach turn to hear Jareth evoke that kind of tone from her.

"Well don't bother. You only set us behind in other ways with foolish stunts like these!" Turning Bagheera he walked the horse in front of Chataigne and they began their course again. "Stay behind me," he reminded her as she flapped her gelding's reigns.

"Stay behind me," she mimicked when he turned back to face front. Even though the king's temper had stolen her joy, she couldn't help but look on in appreciation at the lands over which they traveled. She had never seen the Underground so lush and full of color. It was as if an artist's pallet had dumped over and spilled on what was as she recalled a primarily comprised wasteland of black and ruddy orange wasteland. The sun was directly overhead as they came upon a little stream, indicating that it was near noon.

"Jareth, maybe we should stop and water the horses?" He did not respond. "Jareth, I think we need to let the horses rest and drink a while." Still no reply. "Jareth!"

"I will tell you when we stop." His voice was low and cold.

Chataigne was eager for a sip from the stream but followed his master's commands to press on. They crested a large hill on the other side of the stream and Sarah gasped at what she saw. There was a huge waterfall that was the source of the stream they had passed. Lush vegetation, trees with vines and flowers the colors of which she had never seen before. In the distance she could see fairies playing, but they made a quick departure when Jareth charged his stallion up to the edge of the pool which had formed at the foot of the waterfall.

"It's paradise," Sarah said as she looked around.

Seeing her in such wonder thrilled the king, "This has always been my favorite part of the Underground."

A foggy image began to clear in Sarah's mind, "I've seen this before."

The king's pride deflated, 'Who had dared to bring her here?' he wondered.

"On your bed, it's carved into the footboard. This exact scene!"

Pride replenished, he confirmed, "Indeed. This is where I plan to retire myself someday when I am able to pass on my throne."

"You mean you wouldn't want to be king forever?" Sarah asked.

Jareth's words echoed in his mind sardonically, 'It's only forever. Not long at all.' Being king forever was a concept no mortal could understand. He was king because he had to be and, while it brought along with it a few moments he managed to enjoy, it was more or less a hassle. Had he not been king, he would have never met Sarah and by now would have been contentedly living in one of the green patches of this sector with a fey woman of his own and perhaps a few offspring as well. "You don't realize the true meaning of forever, Sarah." His words were heavy as they escaped his lips. Sarah realized that in fact she didn't realize the true meaning of forever. Being mortal, the word was often bantered about to mean any lengthy time period which could range in increments of weeks to years. Forever in an immortal sense was more than she could fathom.

They set to preparing lunch. Sarah cut some of the meats and cheeses, while Jareth watered the horses and removed their packs so they could rest. He came to the shade of the tree where Sarah had set lunch out for them near the water's edge. The king nibbled at a hunk of bread torn from the loaf Sarah unwrapped. "Not hungry?" she asked. His appetite had been quite good in what time they had spent together.

Jareth shrugged. "Guess I just didn't think about what it would be like here. Last time I heard, this place it was much different."

"How's that?" When his eyes looked at her filled with sadness she answered her own question. Feeling stupid for not thinking it was her rejection that had ruined this paradise for him, she offered him a glass of mead and did her best to smile. She had hoped her question would remain unanswered, carried off by the warm breeze that blew around them, but no such luck.

"Everything here had dried up, the waterfall was as dry and deserted as the grand canyon. The overgrowth was completely bare, the grass more like straw, what managed to continue living here came out of hiding only at night when the temperature was manageable. Suffice it to say that things here were not going well." Shrugging, the king reached for a hunk of cured meat. That's when he noticed Sarah had stopped eating in lieu of starring out into space. "But what's done is done," he added.

"But that's exactly it, Jareth." She watched his eyes close when she spoke his name. "What's done isn't done. I'm going to meet with the Triumvirate tomorrow, they'll send me home and then the Labyrinth will begin to crumble again."

"Honestly Sarah, you give yourself entirely too much credit. So you restored a little vitality to this place, but tomorrow when," he stressed, "the Triumvirate sends you home, they'll give me back my magic and then the Labyrinth won't need you anymore. It's king will have been made whole and life here will return to normal." Jareth rose to his feet and walked away feigning some interest in a group of plants near the rock formation to the side of the waterfall. What he had told her had been only half of the truth. Most likely the Triumvirate would send her home when they met tomorrow night and most definitely were they to do that he would be given the whole of his magic back, but the Labyrinth would always need Sarah Williams, for without her, the king could never be whole, life could never be normal.

There were tears in her mortal eyes as she packed up the food they had barely touched. It had crossed her mind that she wouldn't be welcomed, but not needed, that was a new emotion entirely. She certainly needed the Labyrinth, needed Hoggle and Drema and all of her friends. Even needed Jareth. If what Drema had told her was true, then of course the Labyrinth should have needed her in return, but apparently it didn't. Back home she'd draw a hot bath and sink inside the water until her troubles washed away, down the drain and out to sea. Lost fingers trolled through the water, it was warm and clear. Her body felt heavy with sweat from riding, with grime from sleeping on the ground and with the weight of the worries on her mind.

"I want to take a bath," she announced.

The king turned to look at her, "You want to what?"

"Take a bath. I feel disgusting, haven't bathed in days. If I'm going to meet this Triumvirate of yours tomorrow, I think I should clean up some. Take me somewhere that I can do just that."

Laughter broke his solemn reflection, "Your standing beside the last place you'll see water between here and the mountains. Unless you want to bathe in the cold mountain streams, I suggest you partake of the pleasures of the waterfall."

"Here! Out in the open? Are you mad?"

"All the same to me. I'm not the one who's complaining about needing a bath. Your options are such as your options are. Sometimes our desires are not always fulfilled by the universe."

Sarah grunted at him, hating how he got so philosophical when she was tormented. "Fine!" she declared standing by the water's edge. "Turn around."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not going to jump in there with my clothes on. Better yet, wander off somewhere. You can holler for me when it's almost time to go." She sounded like a princess commanding a hand maiden.

"Holler for you?" He looked at her indignantly, his hands folded across his chest.

"You know, holler. Shout. Call for me." She thought he had misunderstood the word, but more to the point, Jareth had failed to see why he should be made to participate in this little sidebar of hers.

In truth they had no time for this frivolity, but curiosity getting the better of him, he allowed the mortal to dig her own hole. She had put her wants above her means and, as of yet, not considered the implications. He would watch, wait, see what happened when recognition set in. "As you wish," he said with a sneer as he turned to walk into the overgrowth.

Before removing a stitch of clothing, she looked all about to be sure nothing could see her. Had she bothered to look up, she may have noticed a fey dressed in black leather and a cream painter's shirt which almost matched the highlights in his blonde mane, perched on the rocks above the fall, his chin resting in his hands a wicked grin upon his lips. For now his position was safe. Sarah slid into the water. At the edge she could touch bottom, but as she swam further out where there was no silt for her toes to settle in. There she could feel the pounding of the water as it crashed over the rock ledge and disheveled the still pond beneath. It was better than jets in a hot tub. More invigorating and with the blue sky to smile down upon her far more scenic. Undoing what was left of the bun in her hair, Sarah allowed the tendrils to soak up the tropical moisture. The king looked on approvingly as she dipped her head back allowing the tops of her breasts to break the water's surface. 'My but she is a brazen mortal when she thinks no one's watching,' he thought.

Sarah dove under the water, amazed at how much she could see, enchanted by the foaming swirls being created by the fall. Swimming under them she let the pressure crash into her, it felt divine, like a massage that dug into all her muscles at once. On the other side of the falls, she found a grotto barely lit by the sun's rays. The water here was still and calm. Sarah walked up the to the bank. The floor of the grotto was stone and slick, her bare feet skidding with every step. In the mouth of the grotto she could stand completely erect. Tunnels led away from the mouth seeming to narrow as they went on. She peeked down each of the three tunnels she could see. Nothing fantastic caught her eye at first. Just wet stone walls smoothed by years of friction from the water. It was the last tunnel she looked in which made her stop and inch forward. Just inside the third tunnel off to the right, tucked in to a dug out section of the stone wall was something large, pot bellied, black that didn't dare to catch the sun and shimmy the way the walls did. She ran her hand over it, smooth, metallic. On its top, her hand discovered a plank of wood which she slid aside. Sarah peered eagerly into the container. The glare forced her to close her eyes and turn away. More slowly she tried to refocus on her find, using her palm to shield her eyes this time. What had turned the sun's love against her was none other than a pile of gold coins. 'Real gold coins,' she thought, for they sparkled as if they were real. She ran her hand through the pile, selecting just one for closer inspection. Each was stamped with a four leaf clover and the words _Erin Go Braugh_.

While the mortal marveled at her discovery, Jareth was fretting from his perch. He had seen her dive beneath the water's surface, watched as her perfectly heart shaped buttocks rose and fell, but it had been some time now and she had not resurfaced. He quickly made his way to the bank and called for her. Upon hearing the Goblin King shout, Sarah returned the wooden cover to the treasure and dove back into the calm water's of the grotto so she could again pierce the thundering downpour of the falls and resurface back out in the pond. Relief washed over Jareth when he again set eyes on his mortal. Before he could cover his anxiety by telling her it was time they go, she slicked back her hair and told him of her discovery. "Real gold coins, in a huge, well, pot and " the more she spoke the more she felt insane. "I'm not making it up," she said before he'd even had the opportunity to accuse of her of spurting tall tales. "The coins all have four leaf clovers on them and some funny name, Erin something."

Never tired of showing some amusement at her naivety, Jareth laughed once more, "Erin Go Braugh." The way he said it made it seem ancient and mystic, making Sarah forget that she was in a very clear body of water and Jareth was now in full view. She covered herself with her hands and came closer to the shore where he would have to very obviously strain to see her.

Despite his disappointment, he did his best to keep his eyes where they should have been as he told her, "You have found the leprechaun's gold. Each coin stamped with a shamrock, four leaves to represent hope, faith, love and luck. A rare find even here in a land of mythicals. This 'name' you speak of is an Irish phrase, Erin Go Braugh, to mean Ireland forever." His hands held his hips and he bent back in laughter. "So you've out witted the imp without even knowing it."

"Pot of gold," she recited in recognition. "You mean that what I found back there "

"Is the proverbial pot of gold." He finished her thought. "Indeed it is." The king's laughter was still uncontrollable and catching so that it made Sarah laugh along with him.

"Leprechauns, the Easter Bunnies, Santa Clause. What am I going to find here next?"

Jareth stooped down resting his forearms against his knees. "This world is filled with more legend and lore than even you could imagine my little dreamer. Oh but this, this," he said as his chuckling overtook him, "takes the prize. I've threatened for years to find his gold. 'What will you do with it then Goblin King?'" Jareth imitated the heavy Irish accent of a leprechaun. "I don't know that I'd tell him and neither will you. As you know I have no need for his riches, but the little fellow nerved me and I wanted to put him on edge. Now he'll come back to his grotto and know that someone has touched his treasure. Don't ask me how, but he'll know. Then, the best part, he'll scurry around for days trying to find a hiding spot as good as this where he thinks he can elude me. It'll make him crazy and I owe it all to you!"

"That seems rather cruel don't you think?"

"Oh please," he said waving a gloved hand at her. "They're the ultimate con men leprechauns are. Shoemakers to the fairies by day, but when evening comes they drink themselves stupid on their heather ale and whiskey. Blowing smoke rings as they puff away on their tobacco pipes. They're all manic depressive, paranoid little buggers. Why not have a bit of fun with them?"

"I suppose if it's in fun, there's no harm to it." Sarah grew uncomfortable being naked in the water before him as he loomed so close on the shore. "Do you think you might get me a towel?"

Ah ha, now the impracticality of her desires was hitting her. "Where do you suppose they keep those out here in the middle of paradise?"

"Jareth, I need a towel," Sarah told him sternly.

"That may be true, Sarah, but I have no towel to offer and no power over you with which to create one." He turned his palms up displaying his helplessness.

"Well what do you suggest I do then?"

"I would think that staying in the water won't make you any less wet." A devilish grin wound across his lips as he stood.

"You don't actually think I'm coming out of here with you standing right there do you?"

"I doubt that you will, but the fact of the matter remains, we have an appointment to keep and there is very little time for fooling around."

The tone of his voice was infuriating. He clearly saw this dilemma when first she asked about bathing, knew it was coming and waited for this moment like a jungle cat waits for its prey to make a wrong move. On top of that, he was turning it around on her, blaming her for causing them another delay. What Jareth had not counted on was that Sarah would challenge him at his own game, push him to the limits he so enjoyed testing her with. Her knees were buried in the silt as she fought to keep her femininity below the water. The mortal rocked back onto her heals brushing the dirt and sand from her knees and stood. Water poured from her shoulders, the ends of her long black hair still dripping. Streams poured over her breasts and down her torso to her waist where the surface of the pond welcomed them home. Her eyes met Jareth's. 'Two can play this game,' she thought smiling back at him in a way that let him know she had the upper hand. Arms straight at her sides, Sarah made no attempt to shroud her nudity. Instead, keeping his gaze, she began to step slowly from her position in the pool closer to the bank. The water lowered, inch by inch, as she drew nearer to the king. He had meant to keep himself focused on her penetrating green eyes, but as the sun took to drying her tender exposed flesh, it made tiny rainbows in the droplets of water which drew the attention he had tried to control. The slender line of her neck, the way her collar bone held just a little more moisture in a sweet puddle on her shoulder, the ampleness of her breasts, each darkened nipple erect in reaction to the breeze blowing across her skin. Even the Cleric would have shifted his gaze away from her eyes. What's more, the water continued to dip as she advanced revealing her voluptuous curves, the hollow of her navel. Jareth's heart pounded in his chest. She was beautiful indeed. The soft curling locks of her womanhood were matted to her skin as she broke free, emerging further towards the shore. By now, the king's mouth was hanging open, he knew it was. Sarah could see this as her gaze remained solidly upon his face. She wanted to examine him more closely allow her eyes to wander the way his had and survey any changes that may have been taking place in his own body. She would have expected his attention to focus on her more sexual features, but he continued to lower his stare as she rose further out of the pond, rolling over the curve of her legs, right down to her toes as they met dry land.

For a moment she stood, completely still, completely bare before him and let him have his look. When her advances began again, he brought his eyes back up the length of her well developed body, rising higher the closer she came. When she was at last within arm's reach he met her stare, a strange look came over his face. Sarah thought it was embarrassment when the blush came rushing into his cheeks and his still open mouth made no sound. Blue eyes, like pieces of sky cut down from heaven, were all she saw, so close to him that barely air separated their bodies. Sarah's eyes never wavered, never closed, as she leaned up to him, her lips a breath away from his own, parted, her soft pink tongue coating them with moisture before it disappeared back into her mouth, "Then I suppose I'll have to make my own." Her lips pursed together as she finished the sentence. If Jareth hadn't been in shock he would have kissed her then and there. Not out of love, not out of lust, but out of a passion he had until now never felt. An appreciation for the female form like he had never known before had filled the king as he dreamed of something that was between the intimacy he sought from her Aboveground and raw sex. He wanted to explore her, observe her reaction to his touch and it didn't need to culminate in an act of sex or love making to be valuable.

Before he could indulge in any of the things that paraded through his mind she backed away, keeping her strides long as she went toward the thick foliage behind him. The Goblin King watched her walk away, not without noticing the smooth way her legs passed over one another, like a cricket making beautiful music in the night, paying careful attention to the mounds of her backside as they shifted with each step as hypnotizing as the pendulum of a clock. Sarah pulled a full leaf off one of the trees and smoothed her hand over it as she held it by the stem. Her magic created a thick pink towel which she wrapped around her frame. Then to add insult to injury, Sarah walked back passed the king, her arms reaching behind her to braid the length of her soaking hair. "Couldn't get me a towel, but I see you're happy to offer me a peg to hang it on." Retrieving her clothes from the bank, she ducked behind the rocks to dress.

Jareth cringed as the mortal's comment started making sense. He shifted his focus from her body to his own, making him very aware of precisely what she meant. He sat against the rocks and drew his knees to his chest, waiting for the discomfort to pass, cursing himself for allowing her to have the upper hand. When she emerged from her hiding place, completely dressed, "Ready to ride?" she asked the king. "We are on a schedule."

At first he just looked at her strutting off to stand beside Chataigne, waiting patiently for him to kneel at her feet, offer his services like the obedient lap dog her little scene had turned him in to. Then the rage came spreading like wild fire in his veins. Storming to her side, he assumed his position. Her foot slid into his grasp only this time Jareth didn't guide her onto the horse's back. He used his strength to knock her back. Sarah's body came down with a thud upon the grass. The king slid his body over hers and she gasped, half from being winded, half from feeling the weight of him on top of her again. His long fingers wrapped around her wrists and threw Sarah's arms above her head. Like a flickering light her eyes flashed from his eyes to his lips. If it were up to her she'd will him to bring his perfect mouth crashing down on top of hers. Instead the king's breath toasted her neck, wafted over her cheek, his mouth hovered just above her own. "You should be more careful when choosing a partner to spar with Sarah. I am a master of more than just chess and, while playing with me might bring you fantastic pleasure," to make his point he caressed her arm from wrist to shoulder with the softness of his leather glove, "you will lose." As quickly as he took the spot above her, he left taking a seat atop Bagheera and without looking back, began to ride away.

Putting her weight on her elbows she looked at him. "Where are you going?" Her fists pounded the ground beneath her. "Jareth? How am I supposed to follow you if I can't get on my horse?" She struggled to her feet. "I need a leg up." She tried to say it sincerely, almost apologetically.

Bagheera halted. Jareth looked at her from his stallion's back, "Mount your own damn horse."

Nothing made sense. Not the way that he infuriated her at the same time he enticed her or the way he could switch from loving her to loathing her. This would not be her undoing. She was nothing if not determined. Carefully she led Chataigne to the rocks, then climbed them at the horse's nearside and took advantage of the added height to mount the gelding. Her heals dug in his girth and in minutes she was back at Jareth's side.

"Brava," he said stiffly.

Taunt after taunt teased her tongue before she decided that having caught up to him was enough. She'd already pushed quite a few of his buttons, gotten his ire up, among other things.

In silence they left the edge of the northwest sector as night fell. Jareth made camp at the base of the mountain before flying off to fish in one of the nearby streams. Sarah stoked the fire until it blazed hot enough to cook by. Impressed by his catch of trout, she gratefully accepted the contribution, cleaning, filleting and cooking them herself while the king unpacked the horses. By the fire's glow they devoured the fish. Sarah had always known where fish came from although it seemed different when packaged in a yellow box that read Morton's across the top, but for something she had seen still twitching with life and was now consuming, it wasn't half bad. They polished off the remainder of the mead, even as the alcohol loosened their tension, their tongues remained tied. No words exchanged between them until it was time to bed down for the night.

"Don't tell me, you're going off to find a cozy tree?" Sarah asked as she slipped into the tent to change into her night shirt.

"There aren't many trees in these parts." It was the first he'd spoken since early that afternoon.

Hopefulness filled her briefly, "Give me a minute to change and then you're welcome to come in."

"That won't be necessary. The Supreme One has given me a bountiful supply of land for my bed tonight."

Wardrobe change complete, Sarah climbed between the blankets inside the tent. Tonight it seemed larger, more vacuous. The only thought she could keep in her mind was the memory of the Goblin King hovering above her. Drops began to ricochet off the canvas disrupting her illusions. It was raining, a downpour that came from nowhere and yet when Sarah peered up at the sky, storm clouds were everywhere. The drops which bathed her face felt warm, not as warm as the water in the pond, but tepid and not completely uncomfortable.

"Jareth?" she called above the thunder, her bare feet plodding through the wet grass. Looking around all sides of the camp, Sarah was still unable to locate him. She began pacing in concentric circles, now soaked to the bone herself, until she tripped over a lump on the ground.

The king sat upright at the disturbance. "What? What is it?"

"You mean to tell me you didn't notice the rain?" Sarah asked him.

"In fact, I had not. I did notice your foot in my side, however."

"Come into the tent?"

"No."

"You're getting soaked."

"No, thank you."

Sarah stood indignantly before him her arms folded across her chest. The shirt she wore was molded to her form with wetness and Jareth could just make out her shapely legs by what little light the moon offered through the clouds. "Fine, then I'll just stay out here all night with you."

"Would you stop being ridiculous? Get back in the tent before you catch your death."

"If you aren't going I'm not going."

"If I have to pick you up and throw you back inside that thing, I will."

'Just as you did the night you thought I was trying to escape,' she thought as she stood motionless in the downpour.

"Fine, have it your way." Jareth scooped her up in his arms. She watched his face, rain pouring over it, his usually full hair hung clinging to his skin. "Do you have any idea what an enormous pain you can be at times? I try my best, I really do, to put up with your mortal ways, but it gets less easy the more time I am forced to spend with you."

"Bet you can't wait to see me leave?" she asked him removing one hand from around his neck to wipe the rain from her face.

Jareth looked at her, his mouth open as if he had more to say, but then it shut and his eyes were facing forward again. When they reached the tent door, he kicked open the flap and moved to toss her inside, only Sarah didn't let go of the hold she had around his neck. Surprisingly, she caught her balance quickly which made him stumble a few feet forward. Sarah stared at his face. He continued to look out over her, passed the tent at something in the distance, as if there were no woman dangling before him. He looked so helpless, defenseless, like any mortal man. Drenched by the pouring rain, this regal king was no more than a common man who no longer intimidated the common woman inside Sarah. She no longer worried that she wasn't saying the right things, doing the right things, for whom was their left to impress? Surely not this common man. If for just an instant, she felt a superiority over him, a control she had not had before now.

Still draped around his neck, Sarah's arm's pulled the king closer as her toes gave her the added inches she needed to reach her goal. In comparison to the tepid rain, his lips felt hot on hers. For a second it was just two mouths pressed against one another, but when he didn't pull away, Sarah's confidence soared. She opened her mouth enough to slip his bottom lip inside, massaging it with her own. Jareth was barely able to continue focusing on the spot in the distance he had chosen. The rain had made his shirt feel thin, as thin as Sarah's, allowing her erect nipples to graze his chest as she gnawed at him. Her tongue smoothed over his lip and like a trap door his eyes snapped shut, his arms clenched her waist and his mouth returned her affections.

There was a small but audible intake of air that could be heard when the king did this before his deepening kiss rendered Sarah incapable of sound. Suddenly she understood how it was that he had not felt the rain. She now felt little more than his hands, his mouth, his body pressed against hers. Just as she'd settled into the comfort of his closeness, he hoisted her into his arms once more. Lips parted in a brief hiatus, as Jareth continued with what he had come here to do in the first place. He took Sarah into the tent and lay her on the blankets inside. "Do you have something dry in your bag?"

Her eyes conveyed her confusion. What did he care? Weren't they just in the middle of something more important, something that was just as happy to not have to deal with clothing, wet or dry? "Jareth," she said softly as she knelt before him, untucking the sopping painter's shirt from his leather breeches and trailing her heated lips left to right across his waist. The king sunk to his knees. Leather clad hands grasped the sides of her face, his thumbs stroking her jaw, without a word he pulled her mouth to his and they resumed the kiss which had begun outside. Sarah pulled away first, gasping for air. Her chest heaving, her body shivering a little from the cold that was now beginning to set in. Jareth rested his forehead against hers as he undid the buttons of the plain cotton shirt. Each plastic disc he managed to conquer revealed more of her perfect skin. He watched his hands, watched her chest rise and fall in an erratic rhythm. When the last button had been undone, he returned his eyes to hers seeking her permission.

"Sarah, I can't love you." He closed his eyes and bit into his lip. 'Fool!' he thought for he had meant to say he could not make love to her.

Shock fluttered his lids open when she whispered into his ear, "Sometimes Jareth, these things aren't always about love. Sometimes sex is just sex."

For a moment he wondered if that were possible. Could sex be nothing more than sex with her? Surely, it had been with so many other women who had come to his chambers and stayed in his bed. But this was different. When he took them, it was this mortal's face he envisioned. There was no love to be suppressed, for he loved none of them. Now he lie motionless within his mortal, at the base of a mountain, an open field their home, a canvas tent their chamber. The rain continued to pound outside. The face he had been forced to imagine there for him to gaze upon at his will. Forcing back his heart's involvement in his body's act. Once again he reminded himself, 'No harm can come from pleasing my mortal.'

In the night, where the dark hid his tear filled eyes, Jareth held Sarah close to him. She snuggled under his arm, her head on his chest, her hand trolling over his muscles. The passion had ended. He was free to love her again, as she slept, when neither lips nor loins were joined. His quivering lips met her forehead before he too, closed his eyes and prayed that, with her ear pressed to his ribs, she would not hear his heart break.


	19. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - LEST NOT YE BE JUDGED**

Waking up in the arms of the Goblin King was never anything Sarah Williams had intended to do and yet, there she was, her back pressed against his chest, his long blonde hair hanging over her shoulder, two leather gloves clamped about her waist. Glancing back she found his eyes still shut, a contentedness about him. She kissed his lips softly, regretting what she had said the other night. Sex could be just sex with anyone else, that was what she meant, but at that moment she'd have given all she had to be with him. It didn't matter if he didn't love her. She would be leaving him in a short while, never permitted back, this was her last chance. Under the cover of night, with the rain and her own perspiration to mask her tears, Sarah had made love to her king, even though he would never know. Closing her eyes once more she settled into him, folding her hands over his gloves, happy to wait for him to awake.

Jareth wasn't sleeping. While he lie there with his mortal in his arms, he thought about what the day stood to bring them. Today, the Triumvirate would tear them from one another and he kicked himself for not giving himself to her the night before. What did he stand to lose really? Hindsight was always 20/20. Whatever he gave to her last night the Triumvirate would have given back to him when they sent her home. He tried to rationalize, telling himself there were the mortal consequences of pregnancy for which they had taken no precaution. 'Sometimes sex is just sex,' he repeated in his head. Maybe she was right. Maybe sex was always just sex and love was what came afterwards. He wondered if he would ever find anyone who made him want to give himself away after they tore Sarah from his grasp, anyone who would make him risk what he had risked with her, who could still touch him after so much time had passed. Jareth stopped breathing when she kissed him, afraid to stir, to break the bond they had. When he felt her hair in his face he opened his eyes and looked at her. This was the last thing he had planned on and yet, he had never felt happier in his life. His grip around her tightened and he allowed sleep to take him over once more. Today, there would not be any schedule he decided. Damn the Triumvirate. They would arrive in their own time. Knowing them, their decision was already made and nothing king nor mortal could say would matter. What time they had left would be theirs.

When at last she woke again, Sarah was nose to nose with the king, his mismatched blue eyes surveying her face. "Hello," he said to her a small smile across his lips.

"Hi," she replied and turned her face away as the blush ran into her cheeks. Things were different by the light of a new day. It was sunny and she could clearly see every feature of his face which was more honesty than she was ready for. "What time is it?" she asked in an attempt to mask her awkwardness.

"I imagine it's getting close to noon. I've been feeling the sun on my back for a couple of hours now."

"A couple of hours! Why didn't you wake me?" She said looking at him, hoping he would tell her that last night had changed him somehow. Perhaps he had been lying awake trying to come up with a plan that would allow them to avoid the Triumvirate all together.

The forefinger of his left hand tucked some of her hair behind her ear, "Didn't seem important to wake you," he told her with an intense stare. "You need your rest if we're to face the Triumvirate today."

So much for that. Sarah sat up taking the covers with her, leaving Jareth exposed to the waist. He propped up onto his elbows, "Don't tell me you're suddenly afraid of facing the Triumvirate?"

She was. Suddenly she was. The king was no longer someone she wanted to set things straight with. Her adventure to tie up loose ends had only succeeded in giving her more ends to tie. Where he couldn't see, she wiped a tear from her eyes, "No, of course not." Nothing in her tone was convincing.

Jareth sat beside her, his arm around her shoulders, his lips dancing over the skin above her collarbone. "Don't be afraid. You're going home, that is what you wanted isn't it?"

Sarah didn't know what she wanted anymore. There wasn't much to go home to, not anymore, but staying here didn't seem right. Would she be trading one man who didn't love her for another? Besides she was mortal, she didn't belong in a world with of mythicals. Where did she belong? Tears streamed from her eyes, hot drops of liquid pain. It didn't matter if Jareth saw. "I want to get dressed."

The king released his hold on her. She remained curled in a ball, knees drawn to her chest, arms folded over her knees. He watched her for a long moment, aware of the water which poured from her eyes, but afraid to ask what was the matter. He could surmise, after all, he knew her well, better than she would have liked. To any other person Aboveground, Sarah's sex is just sex philosophy could have applied, but not to her. She felt things with a depth that most humans didn't have. Otherwise, Jareth and his Underground would have long since been forgotten when Sarah had left all her other fairy tales behind. While Jareth knew she didn't love him, he also knew he could settle for nothing less. He had offered her commitment and she had refused him. There was nothing more that he could do. Frustrated he reached for his own clothes, they were all still soaked. "I think you best choose something from the bag Arulan packed. You're shirt is still sopping wet."

"What about your clothes?"

"Still wet, but I don't see where my getting dressed has any impact on you, so my magic should be able to dry them straight away." Grabbing her bag, he set it at her side.

"I can't get dressed with you in here."

He looked at her, one eyebrow cocked, gauging her rationale. "You can't be serious. You were in this tent last night, were you not?"

"It was dark in here last night."

It amazed him how perfectly her cheek fit into his palm as he turned her eyes to him. "Afraid I would keep you here if I saw your perfection in the light are you? Then I shall be your Cupid, love, and come to you only when we have night to hide us." Jareth wanted to kiss her, but there was love inside his heart and he forced himself to resist. Magnificently, he stood before her with little more than leather gloves and an air of confidence to wear. A turn of his wrist and his clothes were dry, perfectly pressed and covering the lithe body that Sarah could still feel against hers, even his hair restored to its usually flawlessness.

If she didn't know better, she would have called his bluff for saying he couldn't love her. No man was capable of saying such things when he wasn't in love, but this was no man, this was Jareth, the Goblin King, and his words were always exactly as he meant them to be. Until he left the tent, Sarah managed not to cry.

Chataigne whinnied when Sarah came out of the tent. Returning his affections, she reached for his blaze, making long strokes against the horse's snout. When she became aware of the king's eyes upon her she tied her pack on the gelding's rump and went back to dismantle the tent.

"Come have something to eat before you do that," Jareth called to Sarah.

She was hungry. She joined him on a blanket where he had laid out their food and the bottle from the mead, which he had filled with spring water while she dressed. Sarah ate hardily, but said nothing. It wasn't that she didn't have anything to say. Only that now, here, with him, things like 'thanks for last night' and 'you were definitely the best I've ever had' seemed trite. In fact, she no longer knew what to say. Instead she looked into the mountains where they would soon ride and wondered what this Triumvirate would do to her. Inside she screamed, 'Don't, please, don't make me go.' Her cries would never meet the wind.

Beginning to think he should have refused her, held fast to the anger he had cultured for so long and refused her what she wanted in the moment, as he knew her mind would change with morning's arrival. What was it about her that he could never deny? Why this woman? Why this mortal? Even now, when their act had been complete, he longed for her. Emotions didn't come easy to the Goblin King, let alone complex emotions, such as the ones this mortal stirred.

"We should go," Sarah said when she was full. For once it wasn't Jareth who kept them to their schedule. "As it is, we've wasted enough time."

Not exactly the way he would have worded it, but if this was what she wanted, so be it. "As you wish," he told her. "I'll take the tent down, if you'll take care of the food."

Sarah watched him working on the tent as she packed up what little cheese and meat was left and tied the sack to Bagheera's rigging. He was a beautiful stallion. Black from nose to tail, a rich sheen that made him seem to reflect blue patches when the sun shone down upon him. Wild eyes, eyes like his master's. This was no animal that could be caged. She stroked his mane and he snorted as if to say, 'While your touch is pleasing, it is not necessary.' Sarah couldn't help but find it appropriate.

When he returned Jareth added the tent to his stallion's back then stood beside Chataigne waiting for Sarah, "Well, you were in such a hurry, let's go."

In an effort to chase her thought away, Sarah shook her head and blinked her eyes a couple of times before joining the king and her horse. Settling her foot into the cradle of his hands she mounted her horse. 'No turning back now', she thought.

His hand rested on her thigh. She felt his warmth before she noticed the touch. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," Sarah told him without looking at him while her heart cried the tears her eyes refused to allow to fall.

Jareth took his place atop Bagheera and snapped the reigns to get him moving. Their last day had begun. He tried to be thankful, tried to tell himself that he had four days with a woman he should have never been able to touch again. Memories could never be erased. He would always know the taste of her, the curve of her body, the intimate feel of her. That alone would sustain him another hundred years. Time tended to mean very little to an immortal fey, but these next seven hours or so felt like he was waiting for the end of the world as he knew it.

Riding through the mountains was almost as beautiful as it had been riding through the northwest sector. The climate was warm, even though there were traces of snow here and there. The rock face looked like a painted horse, as spots of brown in all shades peaked out next to the white patches. Chataigne and Bagheera were both very surefooted on the rough terrain, which made Sarah feel comfortable. After a couple hours riding, Jareth pulled his stallion to the side, along a spring and allowed the horse to drink. He too bent down, filling his canteen and taking a long sip. Sarah followed his lead. The mountain air was thinner, harder to breathe and it increased her thirst. Advertisements had long hallowed the famed mountain springs, but the water was so clear it was like glass. Her face reflected back at her through the water's ripple. Over her shoulder she could see Jareth standing, looking down on her which she wouldn't have known if the stream hadn't handed him over to her like bounty hunter who had found his man.

She studied their faces a long time getting a good feel for what the two of them looked like together. Her head filled with music, 'There's such a sad love, deep in your eyes. A kind of pale jewel, open and closed within your eyes. I'll place the sky within your eyes.' Sarah thought she saw a cloud pass over her pupil, a trick, the sky and rippling water teamed up to play on her, she was sure. 'As the pain sweeps through, makes no sense for you. Every thrill is gone, wasn't too much fun at all.' Nothing made sense. She came here to do something she had not done, apologize to the Goblin King. She had the opportunity to visit with her friends, both old and new. She had made love to her king. Every thrill was gone! Knowing that in a few brief hours she would leave made it all worse. She would return to the Aboveground no longer able to settle for Christian, as she had once imagined she might, no longer content with a real world, no longer able to suppress this fey and his kingdom as a fantasy. A few short days ago she feared him just as much as she did in her adolescence. Now, just knowing his eyes were on her filled her with excitement.

"Can we get moving again?" Sarah asked him when the image in the water became too much to bear.

Jareth broke his stare and reached out a hand to help her up. "In a hurry are you?"

"No sense in prolonging the inevitable."

Just like a mortal to assume she knew what was and was not inevitable. "Well then," he said looking at the sky, "it will be starting to get dark again before we reach the Triumvirate. I would suggest we ride together the rest of the way or that I tie Chataigne to Bagheera."

"Why's that?"

"The mountains are not always friendly at night. The things that live here would not waste time with horse, but mortals are rare in the Underground, even more rarely do they wander into the mountains and I hate to think what an orc or a troll might do to a young girl."

What he said was enough to make Sarah draw into his protective reach. "I'll ride with you then."

Tying Chataigne's reigns up with Bagheera's packs, Jareth whispered to the horse, "Stay close and don't wander off. You are a well bred gelding and I would hate to lose you." His glove stroked his blaze. Next he seated himself on the stallion and finally instructed Sarah to lock arms with him so he could swing her up as well. Once everyone was in place, Jareth nudged into Bagheera's sides and they were off. Sarah held to the king's waist, perhaps less hesitantly than before, and allowed her head to rest upon his shoulder. This was precisely how she wanted to spend her last few hours with him.

By the time they'd reached the mountain where the Triumvirate were, it was already getting dim. They still had another two hours ride up the mountain to reach the cave of the Triumvirate. Sarah heard howling wolves and drew closer to the king. Her chin dug into his shoulder, her lips pressed very near his ear. "Don't make me go," Sarah whispered. Jareth's head jerked to his right, his mouth agape, wishing again he hadn't made this damned appointment. A growing heat rose along his jugular as Sarah's lips settled there. Her legs wrapped surely about his waist. Skillfully she slid around to face him, her thighs crossing backward over his. The Goblin King stilled his horse, holding the reigns in his left hand which he had draped over Sarah's hip. The other arm slid up the length of her back and drew her nearer to him. Sarah responded, filling her hands with tufts of his blonde hair. Her lips parted as she accepted his mouth over hers. Passing her tongue over his, she settled into his arm, relying on the king to hold her up. Her tongue ran over the edge of his teeth, a small moan escaping as she came in contact with a few of the more jagged ones. Only the cover of night could allow her to kiss him so freely without disclosing any of her hidden feelings for him.

"Sarah," Jareth called as her lips burrowed in his neck, kissing and biting at him expressing her need. "Sarah," he pleaded again. Ruthlessly she continued her assault upon his neck. Roaming, her hands left his blonde nest and traveled over his back and to the open part of his shirt which revealed his chest. "Sarah," he boomed a third time, his hand pushing back her shoulder forcing her to meet him eye to eye. "Our time grows short. We've but two and a half hours to travel a two hour length and creatures to contend with, odds are they won't realize that I am without my magic and shall most likely let us be, but they will not be concerned with our schedule I assure you of that."

She allowed her eyes to open, hoping it would deaden some of the sensation. Behind them Chataigne's packs were being loosened by a gnarled troll. "Jareth," she whispered in his ear. The king tugged at her flesh with his lips. "Jareth," she said more anxiously.

The words she spoke were not the passionate expressions she'd given last night. Confirming what he thought, her face was filled with shock. Slowly he turned around so that he could share her sight. "Stay on the horse. If anything should happen, ride, ride straight up this path until you reach the cave. Once there speak only to the Cleric."

"But," she said reaching for him

He filled her hands with Bagheera's reigns. "Only the Cleric, Sarah." Gracefully he dismounted the beast. "How is it that I can help you?" The troll took a moment to pause in his pillaging and looked at the king who loomed ever closer to him, keeping his eye as he undid Chataigne's reigns setting the gelding free of the stallion. Sarah was free to run now, if she needed to. A quick glance back and he saw she was face front on his horse ready to follow his directions. Back into the packs the troll began to rummage. "Here now troll, what makes you think I'm going to stand and watch you steal my things?"

The filthy thing laughed, laughed at a king. Jareth knew the mountain range had no formal rule. What lived there had only lie low of the Triumvirate and shy of murder they were free to commit what every crimes they saw fit. Anyone who came to the mountains with out using magic to transport directly to the Great Hall was undoubtedly an enemy and so let whatever fate might befall them come to pass. It could be reasoned that it was Jareth himself who was out of place, invading their home. For what lived in the mountains could not lawfully venture into any of the kingdoms in the realm.

"You dare to laugh at a king!"

"Some king you are. I know you ain't got your powers."

"Whatever it is that whomever has told you, you have been grossly misinformed," he sounded convincing when he spoke.

"No sense lying to me. I get my information from your Representative. Do you mean to tell me that one of your hand chosen would be misinformed about the goings on in your kingdom? I might be a lowly troll, your majesty, but I know what side the bread is buttered on." He immediately returned to the sack.

"Tiberon. It must have been Tiberon." Sarah said.

Jareth grabbed the troll by his scruff. "And so you know it now, that my powers have been limited, but surely you feel that my strength has not." He tightened his grip on the gruesome creature. "Tis the girl who limits my powers. Should I do anything to you, it would protect her as well. That I'm not permitted to do, but should I set her free," a hand rose high into the night before he laid a thundering palm on his stallion's rump. Bagheera whinnied before he took off. The air carried Sarah's cry to Jareth's ears. "I would have no problem defending myself against you."

The troll trembled now, in the presence of a king whose powers he could sense. "Damn the bastard who told me you had no power left. I curse him your majesty, curse him with everything that I am. I am but your humble servant."

Throwing him aside, Jareth spat down at him, "Take what you have managed to transfer from my pack to yours and consider yourself fortunate that I left you with your life." Mounting Chataigne, the king circled back and hovered above the quaking troll, "And be sure that whomever else has been misinformed by Tiberon is told of what has happened this night. We are to reach the Triumvirate without any further interruption. Am I understood?"

"Yes, most definitely your majesty."

"Yay," he cried turning Chataigne back onto the path and driving him to a gallop so that he could catch up with Sarah.

Bagheera was a fast horse with great endurance, no easy feat to catch him when he had been startled into running off. It took Jareth the better part of an hour, but he finally managed to see the white of Sarah's sweater seemingly floating about two yards ahead. "Bagheera halt!" he cried as he neared her. Obeying its master's commands, the stallion's paces slowed until he was walking, eventually stopping altogether. When she faced him, her eyes were filled with tears, her cheeks streaked and wind burnt. "Why do you cry?"

"You have to be kidding me! You bring me through paradise to these mountains that look so beautiful and smell so clean and in no time we're attacked by trolls."

"I would hardly call that an attack Sarah. He just meant to steal a few things. Thanks to Tiberon, he felt confident enough to get away with that. Remind me that I must speak with him when I get back." He said it all so casually.

"I won't be reminding you anything when you get back, Jareth. I'm going home, remember? That's why you've brought me here in the first place."

"You never seem to fail to remind me." He said it softly, loud enough that she would hear, but not so loud as to threaten her. "Come, ride at my side. I've taken care of the troll. We won't have any more trouble on this journey." The horses traveled side by side on the path to the cave of the Triumvirate. They gaited into the Great Hall at precisely seven o'clock. The Triumvirate sat in their thrones as they would have any other time Jareth came to the them. The Cleric to the king's left, the Sage to his right and in the middle sat the Gavel.

"You bring us the Legend Goblin King," the Gavel pointed out.

"I bring to all of you Sarah Williams," he replied coolly.

"You surprise me Jareth," the Sage said. "Not even a bow to greet your superiors."

He dismounted at their command and helped Sarah do the same. They bowed before the Triumvirate. Sarah let the king do the talking, "Members of the Triumvirate, please allow me to present the mortal of which I spoke, Sarah Williams."

The Gavel came forward first, he took her hand, "Rise Sarah Williams. You may call me Gavel. I welcome you to the Great Hall." With a quick kiss to the back of her hand he returned to his throne.

"Greetings Sarah Williams," the Sage added cheerfully as he drew nearer her. "You may call me the Sage. I thank you for agreeing to meet with us." Had she agreed? She didn't recall this trip being optional.

The Cleric was the last to greet her. In the way he moved and the tone of his voice, she could tell immediately why this was the one Jareth suggested she speak to. Her lips tried to resist curling in the corners, but he was beaming as he moved to greet her. When he took her hands into his she lost the battle not to smile back at him. "Sarah, it is long since time that we met. You are every bit the fairy tale I've heard you to be." The Cleric leaned in and kissed her cheek.

"Thank you," she told him before he turned to take his throne.

"Enough of these formalities, or informalities," the Gavel said clearing his throat and glancing at the Cleric from the corner of his eye. "Tell us why you come before us tonight Goblin King."

Jareth rose, "You know why it is that I'm here."

"Yes, but tell me anyway. I do so love the sound of your voice."

"Not half as much as your own." The Cleric shot the king a chastising glance while the Gavel scowled at him. "This mortal has landed herself in the Underground. She has no child to trade for her freedom and as is the law now, I have no powers to return her home. I come before you tonight to ask you to deal with this mortal."

Even though she knew they had to be formal here, before the Triumvirate, Sarah hadn't expected Jareth to speak that way, as if she was some boil that he needed removed.

"And you Miss Williams, why is it that you come before us tonight?" the Gavel asked.

Looking to the Goblin King, she paused before answering, but he denied her stare. "I want to go home."

"Is that your heart's true desire?" the Sage asked.

"It is."

"Perhaps I can change your mind then," the Cleric spoke up, capturing the attention of all those in attendance. "Brothers I beseech you, this mortal has rejuvenated the kingdom of the Underground. Tis a far better sight than it has been in a number of years."

"You speak truth Cleric," the Gavel admitted, "but how easily you forget that the Underground would not have met such ruin if the mortal had not come in the first place."

"I never asked to come here in the first place." Sarah broke the silence by standing up for herself as she could see Jareth wasn't about to do it.

"Hush, mortal," the Gavel ordered. "You will speak when spoken to."

"The Cleric is right, the king has seen fit to give the girl his magic, with it returned, the kingdom will heal," the Sage attempted to draw a little of their attention back from her disrespect.

Not to be outdone, the Gavel said, "And when we send her home, we'll take back that magic which the Goblin King seems to so easily distribute to pretty mortals with piercing green eyes who capture his fancy in passing."

"Gavel, speak what you must for the sake of ceremony, but I won't have you talk of me as though I were some sort of fool. In over 170 years I have given away my magic to only one being and you make it sound as though I've sprinkled pixie dust on every green eyed mortal whose been and gone from here."

"Now, now, since when is the Goblin King so concerned with the track record of his virtues?" the Gavel asked rhetorically. "You must admit the two of you have an odd enough relationship."

"What know you of our relationship?"

"Careful king. You know well enough to know that we would not allow you to journey so far unsupervised with no magic of your own." Sarah hoped that night had hidden her from more than just Jareth's eyes as the Gavel spoke.

"I think perhaps our more lenient brother is right. Besides I should very much like to see what comes of these two. Let the mortal stay," the Sage offered.

"Let her stay?" the Gavel raged.

"For the Labyrinth, brother," the Cleric reasoned.

"For the fun of it," the Sage reiterated.

Jareth was amazed there was even talk of allowing her to stay. This was unheard of in his kingdom, mortals did not get invited to stay, but Sarah Williams was no ordinary mortal.

"Step forward mortal," the Gavel commanded. Hesitantly she obeyed. "How did you arrive here?"

"I wished myself here, using a..." she looked at Jareth, whose head hung in anticipation of her next word, "crystal."

"Where would a mortal, such as yourself get a crystal from?"

"I found it." Lying wasn't the same as choosing selective bits of information was it?

"Found it?" the Gavel asked. "Would you have me believe that in your world crystals grew openly in nature where any imbecile could pluck one?"

"I found it in the pocket of a coat the king had worn," she said indignantly.

Laughter rang in the Gavel's throat, "Oh Jareth, say it isn't true. Tell me you haven't grown lazy on the whole. Tell me it's just this one mortal whose made you go all sloppy." The Goblin King hung his head. He did not answer. He did not meet their curious stares.

"Do you see?" The Sage joined in his laughter as he addressed the Gavel, "Is this not more fun than you've had of late?"

"Go on mortal, you found the king's crystal..."

"And I wished myself here."

"You make it seem so easy. In fact, it is rather difficult by design for mortals to arrive in the Underground, but you, you are no ordinary mortal are you?" She didn't speak. "Are you?" the Gavel repeated.

"I am what you believe me to be. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Jareth, you've sharpened her tongue I see." The king tried his best to hide a smirk that had come to his lips.

"Despite what your king may choose to tell you, I am a very perceptive fey, Sarah. While I might not know why, I am well aware of the difference between you and the other pathetic creatures of your kind. In time you will slip up and reveal yourself to me, of this, I am confident." He narrowed his eyes as he rose from his throne, "Hear what I say now, as it is the ruling of the Triumvirate. In the matter of the mortal, Sarah Williams, it is decided that the creature will," he looked at the faces of the others in the Great Hall before he continued, "stay in the Underground for a matter of six weeks time. During her stay she will remain a guest of the king and be given sufficient quarters in his dwelling. She will be solely his responsibility. We require that the mortal visit each of the sectors of the Underground, as well as the Goblin City, so that her presence may continue to heal the lands she ruined fifteen years ago. At the end of the six week period, we shall reconvene in order to determine what next be done with the mortal. All agreed?"

"Aye," the Sage piped up.

"Aye," the Cleric agreed.

"She can't stay at the castle. You've made the rule before only a spouse or minor children are to share residence with my servants and me."

"But surely king, you would not want her to fend for herself? Besides, it is your fault that she's arrived. I would think you would want her where you could keep an eye on her." He thought he saw the Gavel smile when he said it. "And you Miss Williams, is there anything we can do for you to make your stay more comfortable?"

"As a matter of fact there is." Jareth's mouth hung open as he waited to hear what would come next. "Give the king back his magic."

"But Sarah, the magic Jareth has given you is the very reason the Gavel has allowed you to stay." It was the Cleric who attempted to reason with her first.

"It needn't be. I have my own magic, mortal magic, which I believe can also be useful in repairing the Underground. If I am to be here six more weeks, I want to know that should I come across another troll or a mischievous goblin or a Representative with a chip on his shoulder..." At this she captured the attention of the Sage, who cocked his head and raised a brow as she continued, "the king will be able to protect me." Hadn't she tested the Gavel enough for one day? Enough for a mortal lifetime?

The king knitted his brow. Was she really asking them to return his magic? After banishing him back here when he tried to request it himself, he wondered what her motivation was. Wasn't it bad enough they had been convinced to let her stay? The Cleric smiled, proud of the display Sarah had made. The Gavel had opened himself up for it, asking her if there was anything they could do, and after he had the nerve to call Jareth a fool. It wasn't anything he wasn't saying in his own head as the other four sets of eyes in the room focused on him. "Magic of your own you say."

"I do. It seems that I had magic of my own all along, it just didn't manifest until Jareth ki..." there were wiser words she sought out quickly, "...kindly lent me his powers. I wish to return them."

Even if the Gavel had denied her request she had wished it so. Best he grant the request so that he could at least have some control over the situation. "Well it seems we would have been wiser to roll out a yellow bricked road rather than this musty red carpet," he said with nervous laughter. "Your intentions are admirable, for a mortal. I would be less than compassionate if I were to ignore your plea."

"You heard her Gavel, return my magic to me." Jareth was like a child who had just been told he could be excused from the dinner table to play with a toy that had been confiscated and locked away. It was thrilling to be given the permission, but without the tangible reward, true satisfaction was unattainable.

"Patience king. Your magic has already been returned."

"But I don't feel any different?" Jareth moved his hand in an effort to generate a crystal. There was no result. "Forgive me, but as you can see, I haven't my magic at all."

"Your magic awaits, trapped inside a bottle of champagne, back in your castle. When you drink of it, your magic will be restored."

"Always a catch Gavel," Jareth sighed.

"Always a lesson king. Perhaps another three days remembering how it is to be without magic will remind you that it should not so easily be given away."

He wanted to object. His magic had never be given away easily, but he dare not anger the Gavel any further, nor dare he reveal himself to Sarah. "You would have us camp in the mountains tonight, with no magic to defend against the marauders who robbed us on our way here."

The Gavel spoke, "Nonsense. You will remain our guests. A room has been prepared for each of you to stay in, separately of course. Arrangements for replacing your stolen supplies have been made. You'll notice your horses have been taken to be groomed and watered." When they turned, it was true, the horses were gone. "Now then, Jareth, Sarah, please allow our servants to show you to your rooms. I do so hope you will find your stay here to be a pleasant one."

After Jareth and Sarah had been escorted out, the Gavel left, without so much as a glance toward his constituents, storming from the Great Hall. "It surprises me you wish the girl to stay," the Cleric said to the remaining member of the trio.

"In all your centuries Cleric, I would think there would be very little left which might surprise you."

"Waxing poetic to avoid the subject are we?"

At the insinuation, the Sage departed from the Great Hall without further comment, to seek refuse in his chamber. When he reached his door he was careful to look about before he entered. Once inside, he was promptly descended upon by Tiberon, "Well uncle?"

"You are not to be here," the Sage told him.

"Is my mortal banished or does she remain?"

"Tiberon, please, hush yourself."

"I shall ask again and again, louder each time if necessary."

The Sage locked his door and, with a jerk of his arm, closed the draperies. "If only I could close your lips as easily,"he remarked to Tiberon before being seated in a rocking chair, whose creaking sleigh bottom was separated from the stone floor by a braided rug. He indicated to Tiberon he too should sit. The Representative took a seat in a chair that faced the Sage and parted his lips to speak once more. Before sound could escape him, the Sage interrupted, "I don't know what you think you're doing stirring up trouble that's been settled for so long."

"Is my mortal banished or does she remain?"

"Have you given a single moment's consideration to your mother in all of this? Or the fey who believes he has been your father for all these years?"

"Is my mortal banished or does she remain?"

"I thought not. Much like your father, you lack the capacity to think of anyone but yourself." Tiberon smiled as if it were some compliment he'd been given and the Sage could see Darien in his wicked grin. Oh, that he had been able to stop his sister's great, great grandchild, his great niece from falling victim to the fey's wicked charm and handsome good looks.

"I will ask you once more, then I will seek out the Gavel," Tiberon threatened.

"The mortal remains," the Sage admitted.

"Thank you uncle," Tiberon said in forced gratitude. "Jareth might have stolen my throne, but what will he do when I steal his queen."

"For centuries, the Sage had known Darien, known of his promiscuous ways. When at last he had used his royal influence to win the affection of Liril, great niece to the Sage, he was not surprised. However, when Liril came to him some months later to announce she was with child. The Sage was shocked. It went against his better judgment, but he told her to tell Darien about the child. As he suspected, the then king denied any knowledge of the child or the woman who carried the child. Liril returned to her village and to the sympathy of Gumlain.

Gumlain was what the Underground referred to as a 'badly mixed breed'. Somewhere along the way, the bloodline mixed with a lesser and lesser species until the genetics produced odd creatures. Goblins which had fairy wings or dwarves no meatier than wood sprites, but in Gumlain's case, he had the body of a fey and the brain of a goblin. To the great sadness of the Sage, Liril seduced Gumlain and he accepted that the child who grew within the fair haired fey was his own. Darien's child would have a father. In time, Liril grew to return affection for Gumlain who had always and still loved her. As Tiberon grew older, Liril realized what a respectable thing Gumlain had done, even if he had done so unwittingly and eventually she wanted Gumlain to be a true father. Ironically, Gumlain's condition prevented them from conceiving more children and the mixed breed devoted himself even more to the son he thought was his.

Chaos visited he kingdom not long after when Darien was being forced by Arianna to give his throne to his child, Leanan Sidhe. Darien came looking for the son he'd denied. Liril was at last able to turn his own words against him. When staunchly she denied ever having been with the king and proclaimed proudly that her son belonged to her husband. Darien approached the Sage, asking him to talk sense into the girl, trying to appeal to him that the boy had a certain birthright. The Sage wisely advised him that amid all the controversy Darien had already brought to the realm, he would be foolish to pursue such matters. The matter was put to rest. None but the Sage, Darien and Liril would know the truth and she would deny it to the death.

Darien slunk back to the Underground and before crowning his daughter queen, he secured Tiberon a position as Representative. Liril and Gumlain took raising Tiberon and tried their best to teach him well. It didn't take Tiberon long to figure things out for himself after Darien's visit. Were he Gumlain's son he would have been even more badly bread that the sorrowful fey. Not to mention that he had noticed his 'parents' never conceived him any siblings. Despite the efforts of Tiberon's parents, his hear remained his father's heart, one that held steadfast to hatred, but it was not his heart that made him dangerous. It was the fact that such a heart could hide behind his mother's exquisite face and his father's cunning charm. By the time Ian had passed away, Jareth was already being prepared to take the throne. Tiberon grew jealous, but he waited. When the Leanan Sidhe had gone, the Underground was in havoc with her spirit, but he waited. Then when the mortal came to battle Jareth for the child Tiberon saw that for the first time in as long as he had watched the king, and he had watched closely, finally, Jareth loved something. Tiberon had Darien's ideals of women. Were he king he would have loved the throne above all else, but Jareth had his father's heart and while he sat in the throne he could have as just as easily given it away. He wanted a woman to love. Just as his mother's soul reached beyond the realm, so had his, and at a time when mortals were not well thought of.

Suddenly Tiberon no longer cared to steal the throne, he wanted to devastate the fey who held it, and then, when he could no longer function enough to be king Tiberon would take that from him too. Tiberon would make Jareth the Representative to the Southeast sector where he could watch on as his love and his uncle, the true heir to the throne, ran what was once his kingdom and filled it with children the Goblin King would never have. It had taken some time, but at last Tiberon's plan was beginning to come together. Sarah was back in the Underground, Jareth was without his power and the Sage was at his mercy.

"Should you succeed at this overthrow you're planning, we will be even. You will not call upon me again, wielding your paternity like a sword."

"Uncle, you underestimate me. When," he stressed this with certainty, "I succeed, I will shout from this very mountain top that I am king Darien's first born son and rightful heir to the throne."

"You would fancy the Underground bow to the bastard son of a whore?"

Tiberon approached him by just one step before he reminded himself of the consequences which would come from a confrontation with a member of the Triumvirate. "My father was a great king, a wronged fey with a frigid bride. Perhaps you place the blame in the wrong person uncle. Perhaps it is your niece who whored herself about, tempting my defenseless father."

"Your father is no more defenseless than you are innocent. As for my niece, she was young and smitten, while not naive, never doubt that she was fooled. I regret that I have come to your aid Tiberon. I fear that I have taken part in another great cover up here in our realm. What kind of king will you be when you overlook a man who has devoted himself to you so you can claim a father who began your life by denying you? What royal fey would break his mother's heart?" The Representative's face remained unflinching. "You will, you know, break that poor woman's heart. In a solitary moment of pure selfishness and vengeance, you will single-handedly destroy over 250 years of marriage."

"A marriage built on lies," Tiberon spat.

Pointedly, the Sage met his interjection. "A marriage which has grow into real love, unparalleled commitment and peaceful contentment, the likes of which I doubt you will ever know."

"Don't worry uncle, when I claim Jareth's mortal, I will know pleasures that will rival any this whole realm has known."

"Are you so certain of that nephew? Have you thought on what would happen if the mortal were to deny you the same way she has the king?"

"She won't."

"Sarah Williams is no ordinary mortal and you are wrong to underestimate her. She is very much connected to the king. I leave it to the Cleric to call what they share love, I myself am no romantic, but even I find myself forced to admit that I see something between them."

Tiberon stood and stared hatefully down at the elder fey. "At most she pities him. After all, she has denied him twice and he continues to pine for her." He began to strut around the room. He wore as much arrogance as did the king, but on Tiberon it was sour. "When he is no longer king, she will have no use for him and she can let her pity fade away."

"Never think that pity cannot be strong enough an emotion to make us go against our better judgments, nephew." The word was bitter on the Sage's tongue. "I, better than any, know this first hand," he told him as he stood. "Now go, return to your woodland."

"I've not finished with all I've come to ask you. You were to see that she would be made to visit my sector."

"The Gavel has done that for you without my provocation."

"And she will come alone?"

"Be glad that she will come at all!"

"She must come alone," Tiberon demanded.

A great gust blew over the Representative, blowing back the Sages hair as his hands rose and his voice deepened. "Go! Go before I begin to regret coming to your aid more than I already do. Go, before my senses return to me and I confess my treachery!" That being said, the Sage sent Tiberon back to the Southeast himself before he could argue another word about it. Then, he fell back into his chair, a hand, older than it had seemed just an hour ago, wiped over his face.

"Forgive me, he said out loud to no one.

When they were taken to their rooms, they found the accommodations to be more than adequate. The bedding was lavish and trays sat by the bedside overflowing with food. "Should you require anything, please pull this cord," the elves told them as they left them to their chambers. Sarah's bed was draped with lavish silks that hung over the top of the frame, draping down like an old fashioned bed curtain. When she drew open the panels, the bedding was plush, thick as she pressed down upon it with her open palm. Laid on the foot of the bed was a beautiful gown made of three layers of sheer material, the bodice and hem trimmed in embroidery, the straps were thick satin ribbons. For wearing over the gown, an extravagant robe with billowy sleeves and a hem that cascaded on the floor.

Jareth's bed was dressed in thin cotton, four posters rising out from the bed frame, nothing above him shy the ceiling. He found a night shirt and cap on the foot of the bed which were to be his night clothes and he grumbled at the poor taste he was sure had been the Gavel's doing.

Both weary traveler's set about consuming their fill. They ate fruit and cheeses, a wonderfully fragrant herbed chicken and seasoned potatoes. The greens still crunchy, steamed to perfection. Each tray was accompanied with a jug of wine which they readily partook of. Sarah wondered if the people here every drank anything that wasn't alcohol. When stomachs had been filled, they ran a bath. Sarah sunk deep into the luxurious tub, candles aglow all about her. Jareth however found that the basin which had been left for him was so short, he could have used his knees to scrub behind his ears. Nevertheless, they were clean and refreshed. Each settled into their night clothes and lie upon their beds, thoughts of the other fresh on their minds.

Sarah was staying. His mortal would remain by his side, in his home for six more weeks. Brazenly he allowed his mind to wonder if they would find themselves entwined again. Wantonly, he dreamed that someday it would be in love and just not in the pursuit of pleasure. Soiling his reverie, he thought about where he was, who was controlling things and doubted the Gavel's intentions could be for the good. Jareth and the Gavel would never befriend one another. The Gavel was too quick to pass judgment on the king and the king to stubborn to convince the Gavel he was anything more than the boy who inherited the throne.

Sarah couldn't help imagining the king entering her room, parting the silk panels of her bed curtain and looming over her. How she longed for the feel of him next to her as they had been that night at the base of the mountain. With Christian she had neither love nor satisfaction, she had begun to doubt that any man could give her both. Jareth had loved her once when she was too young to understand the pleasure of sex and now that she had matured, his heart was stone to her. 'Doesn't matter,' she told herself. Sex with the Goblin King, even without love, was still more satisfying than what she had known with Christian. It enticed her, making him all she could think about, making the beautiful room around her feel like a cell.

The knock on her chamber's door made her pulse quicken. "Come in," she squeaked out timidly, fixing her robe around her so that it opened enough to reveal a bit of her leg and chewing at the inside of her lips so that they appeared fuller and more colorful.

"Miss Williams?" it was the Gavel.

Sarah straightened herself quickly, covering her exposed leg and sitting upright on the bed. "Your, your…I'm sorry, how should I address you?"

"You may call me Gavel. We needn't be too formal," he insisted eyeing her a little. "Do forgive my intrusion and at this late hour, but I wanted to be absolutely certain that you were comfortable with going back to the castle with Jareth. I wouldn't want you to feel forced into anything. A beautiful girl, such as you are, shouldn't be taken advantage of."

"If I didn't feel safe with him I wouldn't have come back, wouldn't have asked you to return his magic. Jareth may take advantage of some people, but not me. He's never taken advantage of me." Her tone grew more defiant as she spoke.

Sensing she had been insulted, the Gavel attempted to persuade her. "I have known the Goblin King far longer than you milady, and I assure you, taking advantage of any woman is not above him in the slightest. In fact, it might surprise you what your king is capable of."

"As it so might surprise you Gavel, if you were to allow it."

'And so the legend lives up to her reputation,' thought the Gavel as he stood before her with no response to her rapier retort. It had been said that the girl was mighty with her words where strength of body may have failed her and he had set himself up to experience that truth first hand. "I see," he finally said, "then I shall leave you to rest for the night."

Moments after he had gone, Sarah thought about what the Gavel had told her. She wondered how many woman he had taken advantage of. The woman whose aura was still so present in his bed, was she one of hundreds? Thousands? After all, Jareth was immortal, depending on how long he had been alive it would have been possible. When the second knock came on her door, it disturbed her. She was already sitting on the edge of her bed, her legs dangling over the edge, robe pulled tight around her, "Come in," she snapped.

Compassionate eyes soothed her fears as the Cleric approached. He bowed to her slightly. "Sarah, if I may have your company for just a few moments."

"You may," he was charming, soft in a way that made him seem paternal and yet, you knew he held within him a great power.

Gently he took her by the hand and led her to a settee on the opposite wall. "I must say you are every bit as beautiful as I've heard rumored you were."

"Thank you," she blushed.

"I trust you are undoubtedly as wise as you are lovely. You handled yourself quite well with my colleagues."

"You seem so very different from them. I find it hard to believe you are all brothers."

He chuckled at her, "We are brothers for the cause and not brothers by blood. Our realm has not always been as you see it now Sarah. You brought great devastation to the Underground true, but physical damage is easily repairable. The kingdoms of this realm had once been plagued by great injustice and the Gavel especially has grown cynical, suspicious. The Sage is easily swayed and typically follows the Gavel like a lap dog. Concerning yourself with their hostilities is a gross misuse of your time my dear."

"Injustice? Involving Jareth?"

"Yes and no. You'll find that many questions here can be answered that way."

"If you can call that an answer."

He laughed again. "Be that as it may, I do so hope that the Gavel hasn't put any unnecessary pressures on you. I was on my way to speak to the king and saw him coming from your chamber."

She shook her head, "I don't think he likes me very much and I get the feeling that he wants to make me wary of Jareth."

"And how is it you feel about Jareth?"

"I don't feel like I need to be protected from him if that's what you mean?"

"Not at all. The king and I are old friends, Sarah, I know that he is not always as he appears. The king is fey and you must remember when dealing with fey, things with them aren't always as they first appear. What he does, the things he says they sometimes have a deeper underlying meaning. With Jareth it's double hard. He is not one to show his heart or to discuss his pain. He has wounds that are old and deep. Be patient with him."

"Everyone has wounds," she justified.

"True. But fey feel things more deeply than any other being, Sarah, even pain. I have a feeling your presence here will help him as it has helped the kingdom," she looked at the man confused. "Why I've only known you a few short hours but already feel as though I could tell you my entire life story, but I'm afraid I haven't the time for that." He smiled at her, a tender smile that continued to speak although his words had ended. "Speaking of time, I have taken up enough of yours."

"No really, you don't have to rush off."

"You are a sweet child. There is time. We will talk again, I'm sure of it. Now, to bed with you," his gentle hands swatted her in the direction of her bed as though she were an adolescent child fighting sleep. "Mortals equate sleep with beauty in some odd way, or so I am told. If that is true, my dear, than it surprises me to find you awake at all." A final smile flashed at her before he quietly closed the door behind him.

Sarah reasoned that he must have been talking about the adage, 'beauty sleep' or perhaps the fairy tale, 'Sleeping Beauty'. Either way, she was sure he had meant it as no offense. Something about the Cleric brought her peace and calm. She climbed into bed, her mind quieted by the easy melody of his voice and drifted to dream.

Jareth startled when the Cleric knocked. "Who is it?" he yelled.

The Cleric entered, "Is that anyway to talk to an old friend?"

"Cleric," he called, "I'm sorry. It's only that being here has put me on edge."

"Is that all that's put you on edge Jareth?"

"Look at me Cleric, I look like a rejected applicant for Sandman," he said, extending his arms after first crushing his blonde mane with the night cap he had been provided. His ivory knees showed from beneath the hem of his gown and were he to be honest, the Cleric would have admitted it was a sight to behold, but he suppressed the laughter which tickled the corners of his mouth. "Laugh you old fool, laugh before you explode."

With Jareth's blessings he did laugh, long and hard. "I do so apologize for the way they treat you king, but surely you haven't lost your sense of humor in times such as these."

"I have lost it along with everything else." With the confession made he flopped into the settee crossing his legs and tucking the gown between them.

"I know," the Cleric admitted. "I could see it when we removed your magic from the mortal, a part of you remained behind, a piece of your soul which can never be given back Jareth. But if you were to ask me…"

"Which I'm not," he interrupted.

"But if you were I would tell you that to love someone enough that you bestow your soul upon them is not to have lost, but to have gained."

"Save your wisdom. The girl doesn't return my affections."

"But surely she must have some feeling for you, something that can grow to love."

"I don't know Cleric. You tell me. Can lust grow to love?" The Cleric looked at him quizzically. Jareth spoke once more in an attempt to explain, "Suffice it to say friend, we've admitted to a, shall we say, attraction to one another."

"Jareth, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that I please her, even if she doesn't love me, even if I can't allow myself to love her, I please her and that pleases me. Perhaps the first thing in quite awhile that I can say does."

"My son, yours is a heart with more scars than most, you should be more careful that it doesn't break."

"It is not in my control to break my heart, just as it is not within my control to mend it."

The Cleric lay his hand on the king's chest, "I wish you peace king. I wish you all good things." With that he left.

Jareth had just settled into his bed eager to rest his body if not his eyes. When the second knocking came he huffed, "What is it?"

The Gavel entered, "You should rise when you receive a visitor Goblin King."

Was there no mercy left in his world? "Gavel, it is late and I am weary, what can I do for you at this hour?"

"I come to warn you that mating with the mortal while she's in this kingdom would be most unwise."

The king was furious, "And this is your news to tell me why?"

"I have not been ignorant to just how beautiful the mortal is Jareth. Praise the Supreme One that I am a fey of great strength, but you," his tone insinuated that Jareth was far less, "I fear would have a more difficult time. Were the mortal to conceive, well I hate to dredge up the painful memory of your family life, but you of all should realize what it would mean to the Underground."

"I know precisely what amount of decorum should be maintained Gavel, which is far more than I can say for you. I am here for one night with my mortal, in that time I suggest you stay as far away from the two of us as possible." The Gavel sneered at him before leaving.

Just before morning threatened to break the silence of night's shroud, the Goblin King grew restless. His night had been filled with dreams of his mortal, her graceful movement, her passionate kiss, her confessions of love, her submission to desire. Stealthily he stole into her room. The sight of her lying still beneath the silk coverings moved him. It was as if she had been delivered to him as a gift, there for the unwrapping, something so beautiful it seemed a shame to open, so precious it would be a sin to waste. He peeled back the rich fabric and gazed upon her sleeping face. "You haunt my dreams the way you haunt my days, Sarah." He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and left before he grew carried away with her.

In her sleep, Sarah called for the king, "Jareth," just moments after he closed the door.


	20. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER NINETEEN - NO HOLDS BARD**

In the Great Hall, they met once more, Jareth, Sarah and the Triumvirate. "I trust you've been provided a morning meal?" The king and the mortal nodded their heads to indicate they had. "Very good. Your horses have been readied and we took the liberty of replenishing your supplies for the trip home. Is there anything else we can do for you before you go?" The Gavel spoke as if he were the most benevolent fey in the realm when all those in attendance, including him, knew that it pleased him to feel as if the king owed him something.

"Just one small thing Gavel," Sarah said stepping forward. "How is it that you expect me to ride horseback in this?" Her arms opened wide, the huge bell sleeves of her medieval gown drooping to her waist which was cinched tight by a gold rope. The skirt narrowed and pooled around her feet obscuring whatever shoes she had been given. Her hair was plaited back. The gown was lovely and fit her well, highlighting her curves and swelling breasts, but in no way was it meant for riding.

"Why side saddle of course." The Gavel spoke as if it were simple math or remedial reading, something she should have practically been born knowing how to do.

"She only learned to ride at all three days ago, for pity's sake Gavel, provide her with something more suitable." Jareth knew this was another of his games. He suspected that Sarah had done or said something to upset this particular member of the trio or that the Gavel had such disdain for Jareth himself, that he would choose to attack someone he was fond of.

"But that is appropriate, just what a woman of this realm should wear."

A tingling filled Sarah's fingertips as she grew more infuriated by the fey who smiled at her innocently while double talking them both. Her hands settled on her hips, her mind repeating, 'I wish I had a pair of riding pants. I wish I had a pair of riding pants.' Slowly she smoothed her hands from just above the golden tie all the way to her ankles. When she stood upright, her lower half was clad in a taupe pair of riding pants and black leather boots. "I am no woman of this realm," she told them, continuing to adjust her wardrobe by sliding her hands over the incredible long sleeves and shortening them to a more reasonable length. Though they had taken Jareth's magic from her, she retained a piece of his soul that, and so it seemed, was a piece large enough to continue to keep her mortal magic thriving.

In his throne, to the Gavel's right, the Cleric did his best to suppress a laugh, but when the pressure of his amusements grew to large, he let it free. "Seems as if she's one-upped you old man."

"Indeed." The Gavel's focus switched back to the mortal, "Tis true, Sarah Williams, you are no woman of this realm." He bit his tongue to keep from going on to say she never would be. He would see to that because of her insolence. Jareth loved her and it disgusted him, especially after the others convinced him to allow her to stay, but he would not be so easily swayed when she stood before him again in six weeks. "Thank you for reminding me," he said instead. Sarah's skin rose in bumps when he spoke.

"Off with the two of you, then. Long way to go and I want you clear of these mountains by sun down. They'll be no replacing anything that is stolen now." The Cleric rose from his chair and hurried toward them. Whispering in the king's ear he told him, "Mount Bagheera and ride before he's angered any further. When you are gone I will set to calming him down a bit. Go now." The Cleric was a man of immense stature. When he greeted the mortal he took her by her shoulders and winked. Softly he told her, "Yours is a true magic that is both powerful and comical, very much like its keeper I suspect. The pleasure in meeting you has been all mine." A gentle bow and soft kiss to the back of her hand followed before he lifted her easily onto her horse and helped her steady herself until she could get situated. "Goodbye my friends. We wish you well."

Nearly in unison the duo turned their horses and kicked them into a start. Behind them two fey waved while a third sat in his throne, the forefingers of his hands in a sharp point which stabbed into his chin, a sneer disfiguring his lips.

Jareth and Sarah rode in silence to the base of the mountain which took the better part of their day. Both of them had eaten more at breakfast than they had in some time and without hunger as an obstacle they were able to leave the mountains well before sunset. When they reached the open fields of the Northwestern sector, they turned the horses to the water. The stream which created this sector's waterfall came from the mountain a bit further north than where they had camped on their way to the Triumvirate. They would follow the water home as they were no longer on a schedule and traveling beside the water was always safest. It wasn't until they reached the stream that Jareth finally broke the silence that had settled between them. "You shouldn't have done that?"

"Done what? I haven't done anything in hours," Sarah said surprised.

"You shouldn't have spoken to a member of the Triumvirate the way you did and then showed off your magic. He was being generous providing you with that gown."

"He was being snide." Was this the same king she'd faced the Triumvirate with the night before?

"You know so little of this world Sarah, I'm sure you misinterpreted his intentions."

"I interpreted his intentions quite well. Insisting what a woman should be, well maybe here they all still flit around in long skirts with their breasts tucked up under their noses, but where I come from a woman can wear pants Jareth, and she can wear them just as well as a man."

Chataigne had wandered to the water's edge for a drink. The king and Bagheera remained behind them. "You certainly can," he said absent mindedly as he looked at her shapeliness filling the breeches she wore. In an effort to quickly cover his blurt he continued, "In your world, but you are no longer in your world and if you are to remain here for six additional weeks, I think you should make an effort to blend in."

For a time she did not reply. Her horse had finished drinking and they had gone on a good way before she said calmly, "It's not that I didn't appreciate the dress. It was a lovely though unnecessary gesture, but very impractical. Honestly, could you see me riding this horse with those extra acres of material blowing behind me? The first low tree I pass and I could have been hanging from it!"

This made the Goblin King smile. In fact he had pictured her riding horseback in the dress, only she was sat side saddle, his protective arms around her. "Point well taken." There was a great pause before he added, "But you still should not have angered the Gavel. You must stand before him again."

"So?"

"So, the next time you go before him Sarah, the Labyrinth, the Underground will be repaired and he will have no use for you. You saw how opposed he was to your staying, even now, when he knows you have great power. What do you think he'll do when you're are just a foolish little girl with nothing to offer him?"

"I'm neither foolish, nor am I a little girl Jareth."

Indeed, she had become a woman from head to toe and all points in between. "By the standards of the Underground you are."

"Why? Because I'm not a few hundred years old? Because I don't know who to bow down to? Well then what does that make you in comparison to them?" She paused a moment waiting for him to reply, "Young and foolish too!"

He hadn't thought of himself as young in more than a century. There was some truth to her analogy, a truth the king hated to admit to, "I am a king, no ordinary mortal, because I was descended from a bloodline chosen to rule this kingdom and not the entire realm makes me no less experienced than any of them. In fact, quite the contrary. I would daresay I have experiences those fey could never dream of. What is it that you rule over Sarah, please, remind me?"

Not since he had first come to abduct Toby had she heard Jareth speak to her that way. "Nothing I suppose." Jareth gave her a satisfied look, "But at least I'm not afraid of him."

"Who?"

"The Gavel. At least I'm not afraid of him." She stressed I'm in a way that Jareth didn't care for.

"Do you mean to say that you believe I am?" Sarah rose an eyebrow at the king's reaction, nothing more. He stopped his horse before the gelding, giving him no choice but to halt. "I fear no one in this realm. No thing. But I know great power and I respect it. 'Tis a lesson you would be wise to learn."

Sarah's expression remained unchanged. Once the king set back on their course and he could no longer see her, the steely gaze fled from her eyes taking the stiffness of her lip with it as it went.

Up ahead there was a large open patch and the stream widened some. "We'll camp here tonight," Jareth commanded.

"Yes your majesty," she replied.

He looked at her torn between laughter and castigation. "Set about preparing a fire for our meal and I will put up the tent."

"Do the women in this realm cook while the men tend to the more physical labors your highness? After all I do so wish to fit in?"

Once was cute, twice was obnoxious. "And this is supposed to prove to me you've reached some sort of increased level of maturity."

As he walked away, she jutted her tongue out at him. 'Spoil sport,' she thought as she gathered wood for the fire.

When dinner had ended, they doused the fire. Sarah yawned and stretched before heading to their tent. Jareth waited until he saw her shadow go flat before he entered. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked when he came inside.

"Going to sleep."

"In here?"

"You would prefer I sleep outside?"

"Yes," before he could turn to leave she changed her mind. "No. It's just that when the Triumvirate saw fit to replace our things, they didn't leave me a night shirt to sleep in."

"Be glad," Jareth mumbled under his breath recalling how disappointed he had been with the one they'd left for him.

"What?"

"Too bad," he lied. From the edge of the blanket he could see her bare shoulder peeking out from under her long black hair. "So you're naked under that then?"

Embarrassed she admitted, "As a matter of fact."

"Right. Well there's a simple remedy to all of this. I will sleep wearing my clothes above the blankets and you may rest safely beneath them without fear of my wanton advances." Jareth tried to hide the truth in what he said by masking it with sarcasm.

Sarah wouldn't have exactly called it fear, maybe anticipation, but she smiled sweetly and thanked the king for his chivalrous gesture. 'Jareth, prone to take advantage of woman, ha,' she thought remembering what the Gavel had told her. She watched him as by the moon's light he removed his boots and undid his vest. The breeches he wore buckled and he quickly undid the devise for more comfort in his sleep and untucked his shirt from the waistband.

Once he was undone and had positioned himself on top of the blankets, he turned his back to the mortal who still watched him, watched the easy rise and fall of his rib cage as he breathed, watched the strands of hair fall off his shoulder as he slid onto his side. "Goodnight Sarah."

"Goodnight Goblin King."

Sometime in the middle of the night Sarah awoke to what sounded like gnashing teeth. For a moment she thought that something had gotten into the tent and was hungrily devouring all their food, but when her ears grew more alert she realized it was Jareth. He was drawn into a tight ball at her side, his teeth chattering together in the cold. Her eyes looked at his form with pity. After all, he had volunteered to sleep above the covers, but this was too much to expect from anyone. Her hand reached to touch his face which was quite cold. Sarah pulled the blankets from underneath him, sending him rolling just a bit. Shuffling her body closer to his, she tossed the weathered brown blanket over him. In minutes his body relaxed, the warmth doing it's part to ease his rigidity. He faced skyward now that she had moved him. The brilliant blue of his eyes obscured by his closed lids. Daring to risk his waking, Sarah took his arm into her hand and rose it above her head. She slipped her naked body against his, the tails of his shirt tickling her hip, the coolness of his leather breeches giving her an unexpected thrill between her thighs as she tossed her leg over his. Settling her head on the bare part of his chest which his shirt exposed, she let out a long sigh and watched as it turned into a soft cloud in the cold air.

When morning caused them to wake, they were both entwined in each others' arms, legs stacked like logs in a cabin wall. It was her scent that hit him first, then the feel of her eyelashes on his chest, as her lids fluttered open. Lastly, the sensation of her open palms on his stomach as she shoved him back. "Oh I knew it, knew you'd weasel your way into bed with me!"

"I did no such thing," he claimed.

"Then how," and before she could finish she remembered what had happened when she heard his teeth clanking in the night.

"I don't know. It must have been in my sleep. I must have…"

"Never mind," she cut him off. Jareth thought he saw her blush, but said nothing. She was sitting up from having been startled and he could see her full breasts, kissed golden by the sun streaming into the tent, the nipples already alert. "Argh!" she screamed when she noticed his stare. "You act as if you've never seen them before." Hurriedly she gathered the blankets around herself. Her eyes grew wide as she curled her lip at him. "Well don't just stand there, get out so I can change."

"You just said I've seen them before."

"Get out!"

"Okay, okay. I'm going." Before he left the tent, Jareth reached down and yanked on the blanket. He could have effortlessly removed her covering, but he just meant to give it a tug. Smirking he walked out. Sarah's heart fluttered even if her face scowled at his little game.

"What's gotten into you this morning?" Sarah asked him when she finally popped out of the tent.

"Nothing. I slept quite well last night. When we arrive home I shall have my magic back. What is there to brood over?"

"Brood over? Is that what you call the tantrum you threw last night?"

"I do not throw tantrums," he reiterated as he poured them some juice. "I was merely trying to warn you that the Triumvirate is not a collection of individuals you would be wise to anger. Besides, you heard them, for the duration of your stay, you will be my responsibility. This means that the things you say and do reflect on me, the more trouble you cause me while you're here, the more trouble they'll give me when you're gone."

"Oh," Sarah grunted, ripping a bagel in half, "you just can't wait until I leave, can you? I mean it's all you talk about. When I go home. When the Triumvirate sends me home. I wish they would have jus..."

Jareth held up a soft grey leather glove as he cautioned her, "Careful. After all, you are very powerful now." His voice was almost sing song when he said it.

"You mean to tell me that all I've had to do this whole time is wish myself home." Jareth smiled at her broadly, a devilish grin he tried to use to combat the anger knitting her brow. Even anger made her beautiful. Sarah moved into his face, still irate that he had failed to point this out to her. "You held me prisoner..."

"You said yourself you were a guest."

"...drug me through..."

"I believe you called it paradise." Each interjection he made was calm and pleasant. His voice never rose, in fact, he never stopped nibbling at his breakfast.

"...get me attacked by trolls..."

"One troll."

"...make me contend with..."

"You knew your wishes came true. You knew fifteen years ago when you wished Toby to me."

"Yeah, but Hoggle said I needed you or the Triumvirate to send me home. You even said I needed them to send me home."

Finally he met her eyes, realizing how close to him she had placed herself, "Not so. I said they would return my magic before they sent you home."

"So you made me go trough all of this so you could get your magic back?" Jareth didn't answer. "Unbelievable. You're are absolutely unbelievable, do you know that?"

"You know now, don't you? I told you now. My magic is back at the castle waiting for me, tell me Sarah," he pulled her to him with one arm in a swift movement that forced air from her lungs in an audible burst, "why haven't you done it?"

"Done what?" Words with no momentum came from her mouth, suddenly, her whole demeanor changed.

"Wished yourself Aboveground." His head cocked from side to side as the king repeated the rhetorical question. "Now that I have been completely honest with you, now that my magic has been returned, why not wish yourself away?"

Sarah's eyes swung with his head as she tried to follow his lips, too distracted by their graceful movement to pay much attention to what he had said. When his eyebrows rose, she knew she needed to say something, "I...I helped destroy this place and I should stay and clean it up."

The Goblin King let loose the hold he had on her. Her feet fell flat against the ground without his might to pull her on point. "I'm glad we got that straightened out."

Much as she wanted to deny it, his little display had aroused her. She could feel her body reacting the way it always did to his touch. Shaking knees, dry mouth, heart beating fast as a rabbit's, they all betrayed her when she tried to stare him down, vainly combating his natural cool. Six years of studying how best to annunciate, pronounce and project her voice all so that face to face with the king everything she learned abandoned her. "Um huh," she peeped out before returning to her breakfast. Satisfied, Jareth smiled when she wasn't looking.

By the time they'd finished eating, Sarah regained control over her muscles and her voice box. "So if we're going to be living together, let's get a few things straight." Jareth looked up with great interest in her recently developed authority. "First off, I will not be a prisoner. I will be permitted to come and go as I please. I will have my own room, where I will be permitted to sleep without supervision."

"You will not be a prisoner, I agree. You will be given some freedoms; however, due to your unfamiliarity with this realm I would hope you would listen carefully to and heed my advice when it relates to matters of your coming and going. As for your accommodations, when we return, I will happily instruct my servants to ready a room for you. Until it is available for use, you will remain a guest in my room, that is, unless our camping has been such a pleasurable experience that you wish to continue sleeping this way while you are here."

"Why not just use your magic to make me a room?"

"Construction is a task best not done by magic, Sarah."

Even though she wanted to debate him, it had been by hand that Mason was repairing the Labyrinth rather than some spell Jareth had cast. Maybe he wasn't trying to torment her like usual. "Couldn't I share a room with Arulan?"

"If that is what you wish. I'm sure you'll be terribly comfortable in her elfish bed or on her elfish furniture, wherever she chooses to let you sleep."

Arulan was rather petite, almost a foot shorter than Sarah. Sharing her room, in hindsight, was not the best idea. "Fine. I'll stay in your room...UNTIL...your, must we call them servants?"

"But that's what they are."

"But it's rude, not to mention antiquated. I mean no one has servants anymore."

"My world is not like your world. Here everyone is very aware, very proud of who they are and what their roles are in our society. Take Arulan for example, she is no ordinary servant."

"How so?"

"Take my word for it." Something about this mortal made him open up too easily. Before he had time to realize it, his secrets rose to the surface and prepared to leap from the tip of his tongue. Jareth forced himself to regain his focus. "What are your other demands?"

"Well nothing really." She looked away, unable to say what was on her mind while he looked at her. "Just something stupid," Sarah laughed nervously. "What are we, exactly?"

"What do you mean?"

"You and I, what are we?" Flagging her arms back and forth between them, she attempted to make her question more clear.

"I am a 257 year old fey and you are a 30 year..."

"257?"

"Yes. Why? Is there something wrong?" Jareth rose his eyebrows, his vanity capturing the best of him as he awaited her response.

"You don't look like you're 257."

"Fey don't age like mortals do. Sometime I'll explain it to you."

"Why not now? Why not explain it to me now?"

"I don't feel like it."

There was nothing Sarah could say in response. The Goblin King didn't do things if he didn't feel like it. In 257 years no one had changed that, it wasn't about to change today. "I meant what are we to each other?"

"What a divinely mortal question!" The king laughed out loud as she finally made her way around to the point.

"It's a perfectly normal question, Jareth."

"For a mortal."

"For a woman." Did she really just say that? There wasn't a rock big enough in the Underground for her to crawl under. "I just mean that something happened between us the other night and I just want to be clear on what that means, if we're going to, because we have to..."

"Does being with me make you that uncomfortable?" Sarah didn't answer. Uncomfortable wouldn't be the term she would use. "I would have called us enemies when you were here last. When I came Aboveground for you..."

"For your magic," she corrected.

"When I came Aboveground, I would have liked to call us lovers." Just hearing him say this made her tremble. "Friends is not a term in which I put much trust, which might make it a fairly accurate term to use where we are concerned. We are both interested in repairing my kingdom..."

"So, what, we work together?"

"Yes, that's it. We're colleagues!" The disappointment which ravaged her face made him second guess the term he had chosen. "As for what transpired between us the other evening," at this point he took her hand into his in an effort to be compassionate, "I assure you it was pleasurable, as I hope it was for you. But it was you who said that sometimes sex was just about having sex. In the Underground we have a similar philosophy. Some employ the services of a courtesan, a woman who is trained in the art of love making and whose purpose is to bring pleasure to the man or men who keep her in their employ."

"So I'm your live-in whore! You think I'm just going to stay in your castle, your room, your bed for you to fuck whenever you feel like it?" Sarah tried to jerk her hand from his, but he only tightened his grasp.

"Nothing like that." When he spoke, he spoke slowly and sincerely, not something he was used to doing with her. "A whore implies that you would be compensated for your services, by monetary means. It's something done in cheap motels and backseats of vehicles and dark alleys. In the Underground, we don't have disease, making sex far less dangerous between multiple partners. Having a courtesan is really more of a status symbol. They are trained in ways of giving and receiving pleasure. It's an exchange of physical satisfaction where neither partner is left feeling as though they are deserving of compensation. Many boys are given a courtesan before they wed so that they may learn ways of pleasing their bride. Others employ the woman to satisfy urges for which a steady mate is not available or is unable to perform."

Art of making love, exchange of physical satisfaction, he had a way of making it sound so romantic. At least better than the 'let's do it' she had become accustomed to. "So I'll be a courtesan to you while I'm here?"

"I have never required the assistance of a courtesan Sarah, although I have been asked to train a few in the past." She wasn't surprised. "There is no shortage of female company when you are king. Most are happy to offer themselves up to you just for the prestige of bedding a king." Though it sounded boastful, Jareth wore no look of pride. "You are not expected to serve as my courtesan; however, if you find yourself with urges, such as the one you experienced the other night, I am happy to satisfy them for you. At least that way I would have the piece of mind of knowing you were with someone honorable," he said trying to sound less obvious. "I am here to satisfy all of your needs as long as you are in my kingdom." Between the sincerity in his voice and the strength of his stare, Sarah grew uncomfortable.

"Thank you," she told him, pulling back her hand as she turned to hide her blush. It had suddenly seemed quite warm to her.

"There's no need to be embarrassed you know."

"I'm not," Sarah lied.

"Nonsense, all mortals blush that same way at the mention of sex." He paused before changing the topic.

"I suppose we should get started on today's ride. As I figure it, we should reach the waterfall by night. We can camp there." Jareth packed up their bags and left the mortal to her solitude. The topic had obviously made her uncomfortable. He wondered why it was that mortals were so shy about sex and sexuality. Everyone was created out of it. Everyone possessed it. Most everyone engaged in it and yet, they perpetually denied it's existence. When he had wasted all the time he could, Jareth approached Sarah with Chataigne in tow. He knelt beside the horse to offer Sarah a leg up.

Atop the horse, Sarah became very aware of the steady rocking sensation that riding gave her. Jareth's words repeated in her head, 'I am happy to satisfy...all your need as long as you are in my kingdom.' Before long, she noticed a warmth growing between her legs, a longing that made her want to take him up on his offer immediately. "Jareth," she called a bit more huskily than she meant to.

Halting Bagheera, he turned to face the mortal. "Yes?"

"Can we walk awhile?"

"If you are growing uncomfortable on horseback, we may."

"Yes." It wasn't completely a lie to say she had grown uncomfortable. "Please," she added.

Jareth helped her to the ground and for a bit they led their horses by the reigns as they walked the miles toward Jareth's home. Sarah watched him more closely than she had dared before. She noticed his ease with the horse, the way he would sweep the hair from his eyes every now again, the graceful gait of his unnaturally long legs as they strolled. Shaking her head side to side she attempted to clear it of the music she heard playing.

The music she heard hadn't originated in her head at all for it drew the attention of the Goblin King as well. Humming along, Sarah found her feet joining in the unique rhythm and asked, "What is making that music? I don't think I've ever heard anything quite like it before."

"It's called a lute." For Jareth, that was a complete answer. When he noticed his mortal's brow furrow and lips curl, he gauged it hadn't been such a satisfactory response after all. "A lute is a stringed instrument played by an individual called a bard." The mortal always had more questions, so before she could ask, he continued, "A bard is a wandering musician. They sometimes travel in groups with other minstrels. Either way they travel the lands on foot singing songs in exchange for coppers, a form of money, or just to pass the time of day."

Sarah continued to hum and skip. Jareth watched her utilizing the sound, he loved the way she let music pass through her, making her whole body seem like an instrument. In the distance, he could see the bard happily plucking his instrument still oblivious to his audience. He reminded the king very much of his mortal. Jareth reached for her with a gloved hand. Once he had her attention, he pointed out the music maker. "There you have the source of your music. Just a silly troll."

"A troll? What do you mean a troll? One of those things that robbed us in the mountains?" Sarah stopped her humming and shuffling and looked at Jareth in great fear.

This made him laugh a bit, for this creature was an unbelievably timid breed. " A troll; however, there are many different species of troll. What we encountered in the mountains was a species called a cave troll. That," he pointed at the bard, "is a flod troll, a far less intimidating and more peaceable. You'll find they'll go anywhere there is water." Finally it seemed he became conscious of his onlookers and began to move in their direction. As his music grew louder, Sarah began to hum with the unusual sound.

The troll stood before her, rocking from one foot to the other, a wide grin spread over his face. "Milady," he said bowing to her. Sarah smiled and performed a small curtsy in response.

"He's going to sing to you," Jareth whispered in her ear.

"To me?" Sarah asked, bending back her fingers against her chest. Jareth nodded.

The bard played a note or two before beginning his song. Sarah smiles at his laughing eyes. Seeing the lady was pleased, he continued to serenade her. The bard turned his attention to Jareth this time, "Won't you join me in the chorus my lord?"

"Indeed."

Together they sang. By now Jareth's own feet had begun to shuffle.

"You sing magnificently, if you don't mind my saying. Now," he told the king with a wink and a nudge, "why not dance with the young lady."

Jareth bowed to Sarah, taking up the hand that wasn't holding Chataigne's reigns. "May I?"

Her mouth couldn't form a reply, between the melody of the king's voice and the touching lyrics of the bard, she was powerless to resist. Jareth swept her neatly into his right arm, his left hand holding her right as he delicately swept her over the grass. The troll carried on with his song. Sarah stared open mouthed into the king's eyes, reminded of another time, another dance.

Playing a bit of an extended solo, the troll allowed them to continue their elegant waltz a while longer before concluding his song. As the entire song had been slow and folkish, these last few notes were especially slow. Jareth held his mortal a moment longer than the music played, finally setting her free with a bow of gratitude. Both bowed to the bard for his fine entertainment.

"I apologize, good man, but I've no coppers to share with you. In fact, I've no monies at all."

The bard grumbled at Jareth a bit, "Never mind the coppers, my lord, I sing for the privilege of witnessing milady's ravishing beauty."

"If I had a guitar..." Sarah began.

"A guitar milady?" Two sets of quizzical eyes focused on her when the minstrel asked.

"May I?" Sarah reached for his lute, which he relinquished to her grasp. "Thank you. A guitar," she explained, "is much like this lute, only with a longer neck." Her magic hands slid over the neck of the lute causing it to extend. "And the bottom kind of has a curve in it, like a figure eight." A few more passes over the body of the instrument and it became an acoustic model guitar.

"Play something for us," the troll clapped his hands together as he watched in awe of her creation.

"By all means," Jareth added. His hands were resting on his hips as he looked at her in amazement for her magic and anticipation for her song.

Sarah fiddled with the strings a bit, warming up, practicing a couple of cords. "It's been a long time, but I think I remember one song." She cleared her throat and in a voice that stifled all the power she had shown at her audition, one that rang like a bell while staying light enough to ride the breeze, she sang for them. As Sarah replayed the chorus on the guitar, she took in the expressions of the men who watched on. Both seemed pleased and that made her smile. The final brush of her delicate fingers over the strings echoed around them.

None of them spoke until the final note was carried out of earshot. It was the bard who piped up first, "Milady, you sing like a bird, no, like an angel. 'Tis I who should be giving up my coppers."

Sarah held up a hand to refuse his generosity, blushing as Jareth continued the flattery, "That is unlike any other song I've heard you sing." They weren't the most poetic words he'd ever spoken to her, but the expression on his face spoke more than his words.

"Thank you both. Guess I kept up with it more than I thought over the years." Sarah smoothed her hand over the guitar as if she were going to change it back.

"No, no, please," the bard interrupted. "If you don't mind, I'd like to keep it that way. No one will ever believe me if I do not show them the instrument with which the angel played. Tell me again how you call it?"

"It's a guitar." Sarah was actually relieved he had asked to keep the guitar. Either her magic didn't allow it or it just hadn't developed enough yet, but she wasn't capable of turning it back. The last pass of her hand did nothing to it's shape.

His fingers strolled over the stings familiarizing himself with the feel of the new instrument. "Milady, I thank you for your most generous gift. I hope to someday play for you once more." He bowed low before bounding off with his new guitar, pleased to have a story to sing about and such a beautiful new gem with which to do just that.

Jareth gathered Bagheera's reigns once more. "Where'd you learn how to do that?"

"Sing? It's part of being a musical performer. Damnedest thing really, if you audition for musicals and you can't sing they really frown on giving you the part." Sarah stroked Chataigne's blaze when she grabbed his reigns.

Matching her sarcasm, "You don't say! What a bizarre place the Aboveground is. Why, absolutely nothing makes sense there." His mocked shock made her chuckle. Seeing her chuckle made him smile and seeing him smile made her heart jump. "I meant play the guitar. That is what you called it, right?"

Sarah nodded. "My father taught me. I was ten when he bought me a guitar. It was rosewood with a mahogany neck and black body accents that had humming birds painted on them. To a ten year old it was like getting a new car. I couldn't let it out of my hands once I got the feel for it. I'd set it down and after a minute or so, I'd twirl around looking for it like I'd set down my own arm or something. The first night I had it," Sarah paused in the telling of the story from her childhood and started walking again. Jareth followed behind eager to hear about that first night.

"What happened the first night you had it?"

"I slept with it," she admitted. "Every night after that, when dad got home, I'd wait for him to take off his coat and kiss my mother, then I'd crawl into his lap and ask him to teach me something new, a chord or a bridge, anything. By the time I was 12, I was taking lessons at school instead, while dad sat at home waiting for me to get back so he could leave to get Karen." Feeling as if she'd said too much, Sarah concluded the tale, "I still have that guitar...at home."

"You miss it don't you? Home I mean." His mortal certainly seemed forlorn.

"I miss my father, the one I remember, not the one Karen made." Sarah's shoulders squared as she kept moving, desperately avoiding his stare, ashamed that even after all these years, she was unable to put that part of her past behind her.

Jareth mourned for her. After all, he knew what it was like to remain just out of reach of a parent's capacity to love. What Sarah felt was not so different from what he had lived through with the Leanan Sidhe, but at least she had a handful of pleasant memories where her father was concerned. Quickening his steps, the king joined her at her side, "Perhaps you might do me the favor of teaching me to play this instrument, this guitar of yours."

"You? The Goblin King playing guitar." Even the idea made her laugh. "But I didn't think you had those here."

"No matter. Now that I know of them, I shall summon one with my magic, or you could fashion one with your magic, out of a twig and a few pieces of twine." She smiled as he bent to offer her a branch that had fallen in the path before them.

Her tiny hand reached out and pushed it aside while she did her best to contain a giggle. Happy eyes looked up at him, charmed by the tender way he chased the pain from her heart. "I'd be happy to teach you," Sarah told him, "but you must teach me something in return." There was an inflection in her tone that was neither shy, nor demur.

Jareth widened his eyes before cocking one eyebrow and wordlessly surmising that she was hinting at the skills they had discussed earlier, the courtesans he'd been asked to break in. Her fingers walked along the laces of his vest as she stopped him by crossing into his path. "Come now Jareth, there must be some skill you have that you could teach me."

"Sarah, if you're suggesting that I…"

"Something you're very," she kissed just below his chin, "very," then a little further down his neck, "very," and lastly at the hollow of his throat, "good at."

For the love of the Underground, she could be cruel. "If you are suggesting," he said firmly and patiently, "that I teach to be a courtesan, my answer to you will be the same as it has been to the others who have asked before you." Grey leather swept over his neck in a vain effort to remove the heat which had developed there.

"I don't want to be a courtesan," Sarah told him in a mixture of mischievous laughter and mild shock. "I merely thought we could have an exchange of the arts, if you will. I teach you the art of music. You teach me the art of making love, unless you think I would do poorly as a student."

Jareth mustered all of his calm. 'You do poorly as a student,' he thought. Was that possible? She was testing his limits and he knew it, trying to use the same twisted rationale he'd used with her in the past. The king loved and hated the games they played with one another. She was still before him, looking up at him, trying to destroy the trance he'd put himself in that kept him from reacting to her nearness and her suggestion. "We're out in the open," he said grasping her hands stilling them from the busy work they were doing to unlace his vest.

Even Sarah didn't know where this boldness had come from, but it had grown furiously, quickly taking control of her. Making love to Jareth had been like sampling someone else's plate, suddenly, she no longer wanted what she had, instead she wanted more of what she had sampled. Nothing else seemed satisfying. "That's the beauty of our little arrangement, isn't it? We're not some naive couple, head over heals in love with one another to the point that we can't fulfill our most carnal desires for fear the other will feel unappreciated. You said yourself, that you would be happy to satisfy all of my needs while I was in your kingdom. Don't tell me you're going all mortal on me now, suddenly embarrassed at the innuendo of sex?" Lips pursed, eyebrows raised, she awaited his reply. Opportunity had lent itself to her being able to use his own words back at him, an opportunity that she was going to take full advantage of.

She had bested him again. Jareth's hands reached to remove the vest her roaming fingers had undone. Sarah backed away in surprise. "So I did." He advanced toward her, but she backed away as he got close. "Sarah, for someone so eager to take lessons, you seem to be ready to leave before class has even begun." The king could be smug.

Sarah had not counted on Jareth's response. She thought he'd back down as she became more aggressive. In hindsight, she had no idea why she'd thought that. What to do? Come up with something clever to push this whole exchange off as a bit of a laugh or rather, admit to what her body craved, surrender to her king and quench a thirst which had arose in her much more quickly than she cared to admit?

The flowing sleeve of her shirt rose to her elbow as Sarah set her wrist against his shoulder, her long fingers twirling a few strands of his unruly blonde hair. "I do so hope that my insolence won't cause me to be detained too long after class."

Both shock and sensuality surged through the Goblin King. His hands found her hips and swung her round where he could lean her against the trunk of the tree whose branch they had picked up just moments earlier. With one arm securely around her waist and the other braced along the trunk, above her head, he leaned over her. 'Mortal girl, you know not what you do to me,' he thought as his attention flicked from her hungry eyes to her parted lips and back again. Glove rising from hip to head, he gently lowered Sarah's temple against his shoulder, Jareth's mouth descended on her neck, open lips cascading over her flesh, sliding up behind her ear, before pulling back to reveal his elongated eye teeth. Sarah's eyes closed as she gave in to the sensation of his mouth on her, the mild and delightful pain of being massaged by his teeth, the wetness his tongue left behind. When she felt the coolness of the breeze against the spot he'd just warmed, Sarah opened her eyes. "Lesson one," he purred capturing her mouth with his.

'Dear God,' Sarah thought, 'if that was lesson one she would be doing a lot of studying.' Foolish analogies fled her head as Jareth's hands began to massage her breasts through the thin blouse she had been given. Her focus switched to returning the kiss he gave, which until then, she had only been doing passively. Arms reached out for the hips of the king pulling him closer to her, where she could feel his thigh as it slid skillfully between her own and against her crotch. Sarah was regretting that she had traded the dress for the riding pants now that they were obviously so restrictive. Magic coursed through her which only seemed to heighten the sensation of his lips as they left her mouth to trail over the swells of her breasts. Jareth cold feel her magic and backed away.

The riding outfit she had made out of the dress the Gavel had given her had reworked itself into a shorter version of the original gown, one that still swelled her breasts and cinched her waist, but now with a loose skirt which hung to just above her knees. Jareth sunk before her, his hands to either side of her knees and slowly he rose the hem of her dress, never removing his stare from his mortal's. When the king felt no panties beneath the skirt, he locked on to her hips. A devilish grin curled over his lips, "Did you wish for that or did I?"

There was no question he was eager to bring her to her satisfaction and he did so well. "Thank you," she told him kissing his mouth gently and briefly. "I had no idea it could be that way."

His hand covered hers, "Do mortal men not please their women before themselves?"

"Mortal men don't please their women much, in or out of bed, for that matter. Least not the one's I've ever known."

Pulling Sarah's hand from his cheek, he kissed her warm palm, "It was my pleasure to please you. Thank you for that privilege." He led her passed him, "Go refresh yourself in the cool waters of the stream and I'll prepare us something to eat.

"Great, I'm starving," she said as she went to the water's edge.

The Goblin King watched her leave his side, the way the skirt swayed, the way her legs seemed to glide. Reaching her satisfaction wore well on her, put her whole being at ease. It was much different for the king. Denying himself satisfaction had filled him with a tension, one which he wondered whether or not he could withstand for six more weeks. He raised his brow when Sarah spoke of hunger. His was a hunger he would never satisfy.


	21. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER TWENTY - HOME AGAIN, HOME AGAIN**

Whether it had been their rendezvous in the meadow or the delicious meal they consumed afterward, Jareth and Sarah made excellent time in arriving at the waterfall, in time to set up camp and a glowing fire before the sun went down. Sarah sat beside the fire, having used her magic to don some more comfortable clothing, she was able to pull her knees to her chest so that her chin could rest upon the cool leather of the riding pants she wore once more. Watching the flames dance hypnotized her. With Jareth off hunting them something for diner, she had the freedom to let her thoughts run wild. Of course her thoughts were of her king, lately little else could capture her attention.

This would be their last night together alone. Tomorrow night they would be back at the castle, back among Jareth's servants and constituents, before the curious eye of his subjects and beneath the oppressive thumb of the Triumvirate. Sarah wondered how much their relationship would change. If Jareth would allow her the freedoms he had said she would have or if they would return to his primitive methods of restraining prisoners who tried to find the kitchen in the middle of the night. At the idea of being restrained, Sarah's mind wandered down a completely different path. It was unlike her to get caught up in thoughts of intimacy and even more unlike her that they be so decadent. 'Fantasies never hurt anyone,' she told her conscious. 'Everything you've done for the last week has been one huge fantasy,' her conscious spat back. 'Let's not forget, you're no longer Aboveground. You've come to where the fantasies live and breath, not to mention you come with the power to bring things to life. You're little fantasies might not be so harmless here.'

"Go to hell," she told herself, bitter at her better judgment for ruining her fun.

"Beg your pardon," Jareth said as he landed behind her, resuming his fey form, a fresh kill in his hand.

She looked up at him, blushing instantly, "I wasn't talking to you."

"I see, and who were you talking to?"

"No one."

"But you were talking, correct?"

"Yes, it's a mortal thing I guess, talking to oneself." She tried to dissuade him from inquiring about the topic of her one woman conversation.

"Nonsense. We immortals talk to ourselves all the time," a gloved hand stroked the top of her head, "only we're not foolish enough to admit it." At the rocks beside the falls, Jareth prepared his prey for the evening's meal.

Sarah watched him, not knowing how many more times she would have this opportunity. He'd removed his frock coat and vest. His sleeves pushed as far up his arms as they would go. In the bask of the flames she could see the light marbled design of his breeches as they conformed to his behind and rolled over the muscles in his legs. As always, his fingertips obscured by the damnable black gloves she had come to resent. Today, beneath the tree, he had worn them while they were together, but she attributed that to the eagerness with which they had been overcome. Thinking on it, he had worn them that first night in the tent. She had recalled thinking for just a second that he looked odd, stood before her completely naked except for his gloves.

"What are you thinking about?" Jareth asked as he brought the cleaned rabbit meat to the fire.

"Huh?" Sarah asked raising her eyebrows.

"Your face is all knotted up and your jaw is practically on the ground. You're just not yourself tonight. I hope you're not catching cold from insisting on being out in the rain the other night."

"What's going to happen when we get back to your castle?" Sarah blurted out the question.

Jareth looked at her quizzically. Her inquiry certainly hadn't been anticipated. Sitting beside the fire to tend to their meal, which his mortal was obviously too distracted to do, Jareth replied, "That's a very general question."

"You know what I mean."

"I think I do," the king stole a glance at her while she wasn't paying attention. "I suspect there will be a certain amount of upheaval. I'll need to announce your arrival, make arrangements with the Representatives for your visits, make you known to my staff and my subjects. I suspect it will be quite some time before there is calm." He'd anticipated she'd say something in response. Start asking the millions of questions mortals seemed to trouble themselves with. When she said nothing, he continued, "You'll need to be made familiar with the castle and the grounds. I know you'll want to spend some time with Hog's Head." Sarah didn't even bother correcting him. "Sarah, are you certain you're alright?"

"You don't have the slightest idea what I'm talking about." Her words were angry but spoken softly, more filled with hurt than anything. Her eyes washed over him in a way that made Jareth feel mortal. Mortal in the sense that he had, in that moment, become just like every other man the girl had given herself too. Without her confirming, he knew.

"Sarah," he began in a tone that was tender but annoyed, "must we continuously go over this. You are my guest as long as you are in the Underground, I will be your servant. You have but to tell me what it is you need," he looked away before adding, "in any respect."

Offended by his assumption, "It's not just that. I don't know anything about royalty. I mean sure out here where no one can watch us you've had your moments of civility with me, even times when you were able to make a joke or tell me about your family, but tomorrow when we're back among people who expect you to be a king," Sarah paused to suppress a sob, "how will you treat me then?"

For a moment, Jareth wished she had been talking about their relations, it would have been easier. He cleared his throat, "It's true. I will not have the open freedoms I have with you now when we are in the presence of others. I am expected to maintain a certain decorum. Do you think that I enjoy what is expected of me?" Sarah shook her head, convinced by his mannerism that he vehemently did not. Jareth did not fail to notice the wetness which she tried to hold back in her eyes. "Sarah, I fear that you might be developing feelings for me that I cannot return." The king lowered his brow and surveyed her closely.

Using the back of her hand, Sarah wiped away a few of the tears which had managed to run free. "You flatter yourself," she lied. "I'd like to think that we could have a mortal friendship. I'd like to think that when I come to you it's to seek the comfort of a friend and not just a business arrangement."

"I've made my feelings on friendship quite clear. I can call you friend if that is what will make you happy, but you should know that I hold no loyalty to friends," he spat the word distastefully from his lips.

Things were coming together in Sarah's mind. The way he wanted her love immediately fifteen years ago, the way he refused to her the chance to get to know who he was. Jareth's extreme distaste for friendship ran deep into his heart. It wasn't macho independence or aristocratic supremacy, he had let someone get close and been crossed by them. Tears dried, Sarah's eyes grew sympathetic, "Who hurt you?" When Jareth didn't respond, she asked again. "Who hurt you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do. This distaste you have for friendship, the way you keep everyone at such a length, that's not part of who you are. You deny yourself the company of others. You refuse Arulan's affections, Hoggle's assistance, the Cleric's offers. Someone must have done something awful to you to make you want to shut yourself off like that, to make you incapable of trusting anyone."

"Dinner's ready," the Goblin King muttered, removing the pan from the flames and setting it aside.

"I'm not hungry."

"So starve," he yelled as he walked off into the thicket behind them.

Sarah remained by the fire feeling awful for exposing him, but ready to be compassionate when he returned. She hoped he would return. All these years, she'd focused on what he'd done to her. Only recently had she even given a thought to what she'd done to him. Now she was realizing that in the 257 years he'd been alive, he had been hurt too. Probably in a lot of the same ways she had and by many of the same types of people. The differences between the Aboveground and the Underground narrowed for her. Some of her animosity had been let go, cast into the fire, whose flames she continued to watch, refusing to move until her king returned.

By the time Jareth returned, it was well into the early morning hours. The mortal had fallen asleep by the fire. He noticed that she did end up picking at some of what he had prepared. In all honesty, he had burnt the meal and didn't blame her for not wanting any. His long walk had helped to diffuse some of his anger. Looking at her sleep, he found himself feeling something he had never experienced before. Gratitude. Undoubtedly, anyone, let alone a mortal, this mortal, reading into him the way she had done infuriated him, but he was thankful that she was able to see beyond the airs he wore. He dreamed of being able to confess his truths to her. Maybe, if he did, when they took her from him she would remember, that while he had been robbed of his mortality he was still, at least in part, human.

Strong arms scooped her up. She was warm from lying in the glow of the flames and snuggled against him instinctively. Nudging him under the chin, she felt like a child in his arms. His lips pressed down on her hair as he inhaled her scent. Inside the tent he wrapped Sarah in a blanket. For a long while he watched her sleep. Whether or not he wanted to admit it, she was perceptive when it came to him, but there was still so much she didn't know, that he couldn't tell her, both because of the short amount of time they would have together and his own stubbornness. 'A fey's heart is never in question,' he thought. They were a physical reflection of the person they were inside. In that logic, Sarah could have been fey, for she was as beautiful inside as she was on the surface.

Weariness got the better of him, causing him to lay himself beside her. His arms wanted so to wrap around her body, feel the heat of her beside him, be sung to sleep by the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she dreamt. He rolled onto his side, back towards her, practically pressing his nose to the canvas wall of the tent. That was how Sarah found him when she woke up. She'd been asleep since early evening and although it was the middle of the night, she felt surprisingly refreshed. Waking up inside the tent shocked her, especially when she didn't feel Jareth next to her. When she found him on the other side of the tent, she grumbled a bit about his being stubborn and acting like a child. "I mean it's ridiculous at his age," she concluded her rant.

"Fey have a very heightened sense of hearing, did you know that?" he asked without moving a muscle.

"Did I wake you?" she said tentatively.

"No. The level of sleep I was able to achieve was not a deep one to begin with. I've been awake most of the night. I thought it better if I at least got some rest." He turned to face her, surprised by how close she had come to where he lie.

"So you heard…"

"Everything? Yes, I heard."

Sarah blushed, "Honestly, you can be all of those things."

"Indeed." A slight frown played at his lips.

"But you can be more Jareth. I've seen it, you just need to show everyone else."

"It's complicated Sarah. Go back to sleep."

"I'm not tired."

"I am a king. I must behave as I'm expected to behave. These moments you have seen me have all been weaknesses. Do you know what would become of me if I showed weakness to an adversary?"

"I don't think it's weak to have feelings, it's very basic, very…"

"Human," Jareth finished her thought. He never failed to find the line between their worlds and darken it. "While being in touch with one's feelings might be an admirable Aboveground quality, in my world it is as good as a frock made of iron."

"But all the pain you're carrying around inside." She felt her eyes tearing again for she knew that pain herself. "How does that help you to be a good king? When does someone take care of what you need?"

"Pain hardens a heart Sarah. Sometimes a new scar is like healing an old one. The grief becomes so immense that you must let go of something."

Tears began to fall. Sarah only assumed he was talking about the pain she had caused him when she left, the pain of the second rejection healing it over and letting go of his feelings for her. "Well," she said choking back the tears and attempting to appear undaunted, "not anymore. As long as I'm here, as long as you'll be seeing to my needs, I will be seeing to yours as well." He looked at her amused, knowing that they were both assigning different meanings to the same set of words. "I mean if there's something you want to talk about, I want you to know you have a friend you can come to."

A smile rolled over his lips, "Thank you," he said, his hand sneaking out from beneath the blanket while his mind was focused on other things to run through her wavy hair, smoothing it down as it had gotten rather feral in her sleep. "You know that while I may call you friend, I still don't trust you." It wasn't harshly that he said the words, it was honest. Nothing that transpired between them had caused him to find her trustworthy and while he hoped he was wrong, he didn't see that anything ever could.

"Trust can be earned," she said it with a great confidence that shook even the king.

Jareth gave her a subtle nod, "That remains to be seen."

Sarah smiled at him making him feel completely helpless. "I feel like we should commemorate this somehow. It's a very big step you've taken." Without warning, the glove that had been flattening her hair fell to her neck. Jareth pulled her to him, capturing her lips with his. It was a powerful, needful kiss which told Sarah just how long the king had waited for someone he could confide in. Returning his kiss with equal passion she wound her arms around his shoulders. A sigh escaped her as she realized he had removed his shirt entirely for sleeping. Fingers slid over his back, the tips of her nails gently scrapping his skin. Soon, a hardness pressed into her stomach and she realized that he had removed his pants for sleeping as well. When he broke their kiss she said, "Aboveground we just shake hands."

The Goblin King positioned himself above his mortal, eager fingers working at her waistband attempting to free her shirt from it's constraints. Submissively, she sat up and raised her arms so that he could discard the garment. The soft leather of his gloves danced over her erect nipples before he began to gently massage her breasts. His mouth roamed her body from shoulder to shoulder and neck to mid-section. When at last he returned to her lips, he kissed them hard working to open her jaw and stroke her tongue roughly with his own, biting at her lips a little as he did this. One hand slid beneath the waistband of her pants. Sarah gasped, arching her back at his abrasive, but exhilarating touch. With his other hand Jareth supported her neck, bending his head to her ear, where he allowed his tongue to run up from the hollow of her neck, along her lobe and finally, in a throaty whisper he reminded her, "We're no longer Aboveground."

When they had finally torn themselves apart from one another, Sarah lie contentedly beneath the king's arm, listening to him breathe. "Jareth," she called. "Jareth?" He must have fallen asleep, otherwise the acute hearing he'd bragged about earlier would have forced him to respond. He continually amazed her with his skills in bed, bringing her to orgasm several times in the hour or so which they had spent entwined. And yet, as her hand roamed his body, she found that he was still fully erect, as if he could have kept at it much longer. There was a trick no mortal man could pull off, at least none she'd known. She allowed her hand to stroke him, softly at first. His body reacted even in his sleep. Giggling a bit, Sarah increased the intensity of the strokes.

The king frightened her half to death when he awoke, grabbing at her hand to still the steady motion which brought him closer and closer to the edge. "Are you never satisfied?" he asked her playfully.

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

With an easy palm he guided her head back to his chest and held her hand above his heart before he closed his eyes once more, placing a kiss on her forehead he admitted, "I am quite content, of this I assure you."

When breakfast had ended, before they prepared to ride back through the Labyrinth Sarah attempted to convince Jareth to go for a swim. "I don't swim," he protested, "besides we haven't the time."

Sarah lured him to the water's edge where she sat trolling her foot through the water. "It's wonderfully comfortable, just like a bathtub." She leaned back allowing her arms to support her, tossing back her head so the sun could kiss at her neck and face.

Jareth found her incredibly appealing when she was happy. "Do you want to be forced to spend another day out here?"

"As a matter of fact," she admitted as she shift her weight to her hands and kicked water in the king's direction.

He looked at her stunned. She only smiled. "I cannot believe you just did that," he said in mock irritation extending his arms and shaking the water from the surface of his clothing.

"Then you better keep your eyes open this time," her foot flicked repeatedly through the water until he was sufficiently doused.

Jareth fought his way through the spray, pinned her legs to the ground between his own and lie her back onto the soft, sweet smelling grass. His hands held her shoulders while he shook his mane wildly, returning most of the water that she had sent there in the first place. Screaming like a child, "Jareth, stop. You're getting me all wet," she managed to say between bouts of hysterical laughter.

The king stopped shaking his head. Sarah stopped laughing. For a moment they just looked at one another. It was Sarah who grew uncomfortable first and looked away. When she dared to look back, Jareth had not moved, had not blinked. As his head lowered to kiss her, her head rose to meet his lips half way. Loosening his grip on her shoulders, Jareth rolled back on his haunches and accepted her into his arms as she continued to sit up. As their kiss intensified Sarah's hand worked away the king's coat, followed by the king's shirt. When he leaned back to free her of her garments as well, she set her hands on his chest, touching him lightly, admiring what she saw and, when he least expected it, pushing him back into the water that pooled beneath the fall.

Sarah was curled in hysterics when the Goblin King resurfaced, his hair clung to his face. "Is this what friends do to one another?" he asked as he tread water in the center of the pool.

"Yes," she managed between bursts of laughter, "this is exactly the kind of thing friends do to each other.

"And you wondered why I was hesitant to give you such a title." He extended one sopping glove to her, "Come on now, you managed to waste even more time." Sarah offered her hand in return. He sounded quite serious and she hoped she hadn't taken their little joke too far.

"Oh, you can change into dry pants with a flick of your wrist," she mentioned, casually.

Struggling a bit for effect, he flailed about before locking tightly onto her hand and yanking her in with him. When she resurfaced he was chuckling, "So I can, you; however, will be riding round with a wet bottom all afternoon."

Sarah was stunned. The idea that he could be so playful thrilled her and at seeing him filled with joy, her own heart grew, still she was soaked to the bone now. Jareth was right, she couldn't just easily change into something dry. Her curled lips loosened. She wiped the hair from her face and removed her boots, tossing them to shore. Next her pants, walking them to the bank so she could lie them out in the sun.

"What are you doing?" Jareth asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Sarah countered. His mouth hung open when she turned to face him, her blouse clung to her chest, her hardened nipples protruding from beneath the now almost see through fabric. "I'm putting out my clothes to dry." She slipped the fabric over her head and spread it out on the shore as she had done with the rest of her garments, then sank into the warm water of the falls. "Mmmm," she moaned, "I told you this would be a good idea."

"Milady," he said silkily, "I have ideas far better than this one." A snap of his fingers sent his clothing away, all but those damnable gloves and he too sunk into the pool. "I told you once, I'm not much of a swimmer," Jareth admitted coming behind Sarah, encircling her waist with his arms.

Immediately she noticed his bare arms, "Jareth, your clothes?" she said in mock surprise.

"I was feeling a little over dressed," he replied his mouth kissing at her neck and the tender flesh behind her ear.

'This was something different,' she thought. Each time they'd been together up until now she had approached him, but this time, he had come to her. She used no terms of suggestion, no means of seduction, merely went along her business of needing to dry her clothes. The wet gloves slid easily over her skin, stimulating her senses more than she would have expected them to. When they settled over her breasts, she clutched his hands with her own, "Perhaps you're still a bit over dressed, king?"

Slowly he snaked his hands from beneath hers, drawing his mouth close to her ear, he whispered, "Trust me when I tell you this," his hands roamed further down her body, "I can bring you quite a bit of pleasure even through these flimsy leather layers."

"Let's never go back to the castle. Let's just live in the grotto with the Leprechaun."

The pain which had begun in his groin was radiating into his stomach. While his skin reeled from the feel of her lips, he received no relief in his abdomen as long as she continued to stir desire within him. "I've a kingdom to run Sarah. I can't merely hide away in a stone hole spending my days and nights seeking the gratification of a woman."

'He had said a woman, not this woman,' Sarah thought. She had become a passing fancy to him. Another of what she believed was a very long line of women who he had taken advantage of. There were the Gavel's words coming back to mock her. But the king had been clear, there was no point in her developing feelings for him because he could not return them. Six weeks, six weeks to take advantage of him the way he had of her. 'Develop a courtesan's heart,' she told herself. 'No one walks away feeling owed. Learn to give and to receive pleasure, nothing more. With steely resolve, the mortal rose from his side. "Then I shall go and see if my clothes are dried." When she had gone, Jareth remained, the pain in his stomach migrating to his chest.

Creating a towel for herself as she had before, Sarah dried and began dressing. Her clothes were not completely dry, but they would do well enough for the ride back to the castle. Jareth appeared suddenly beside her, dressed and ready. It did not escape his attention that her blouse was still damp and therefore clung nicely around her unrestrained breasts. "I'll be ready in a minute, just need to get my hair pulled back." Sarah had mistaken his admiration for impatience.

"I didn't mean to be harsh before."

"Yes you did."

"No, I really didn't." He attempted to reach for her, but she jerked away.

Sarah gathered Chataigne and took him beside the rock face where she had mounted him on her own before and situated herself on her gelding. "Yes, you really did. You always do. Just when I think there's a chance that you'll act even mostly civilized you remind me that you are a king, better than me, better than your subjects. It constantly amazes me that you don't argue with yourself for superiority. Let's just get back to the castle where at least I'll expect you to act like an ass."

Jareth mounted Bagheera quickly, flapping the reigns in a sharp flicker that sent the mustang dashing toward the Labyrinth. Sarah followed behind him, not to be outdone by his show, driving Chataigne to match the stallion's speed. All the while they ran, she mumbled, "Tell me not to drive the horses this way, but you can do anything you please. Just like you, what's good for the goose, do as I say, how droll."

When the Labyrinth walls were in sight, Jareth slowed his horse. When Sarah saw him raise his hand, she followed suit and together they trotted to the Labyrinth doors, both eager for their time alone to come to an end and yet, secretly, desperate for it to stay. "When we enter the Labyrinth, while you are in the castle, I will expect that you treat me with a certain amount of respect. I won't allow you to cause dissension while you're here. In exchange, I will be as courteous to you as I can be without straining the social boundaries of my culture." Jareth washed over her with his eyes, "Unless you find that too goose-like."

Sarah blushed. Curse the fey for their heightened senses! "I forgot you could hear."

"Tell me," he asked guiding Bagheera close to the gelding, "Aboveground, does one always focus on a friend's faults?" Sarah met his penetrating gaze, held it a moment and then looked away ashamed.

Hoggle greeted them at the gate. "Sarah?" Surprise rang in his voice, "Whatta you doin' here? Why didn't they send you home?"

"Is that anyway to show your gratitude for the extra time you've been allotted with the mortal?" Jareth asked. "And you Sarah, dismount and give your friend a proper greeting."

Both the dwarf and the woman looked at him suspiciously before she lowered herself to the ground and ran to Hoggle. Falling to her knees, she wrapped her arms about the dwarf's stout frame and pulled him close. His eyes fell closed as he ran a hand over her silky locks. Breathing in deeply, he caught Jareth's scent on her and sighed. Looking up at the king, prepared to twist his small face in a menace of disgust, he found the king smiling, leaned back on his horse, satisfied that he had brought these two back together. Hoggle held Sarah back to arms length, "What happened?"

Tears were in her eyes at this reunion. "The Triumvirate has decided I should stay until the Underground is fully repaired. I've been given six weeks."

"Six weeks," the dwarf looked at the king once more. "Six weeks?"

"It is as she said," Jareth confirmed.

"But that's unheard of," Hoggle insisted.

"You can discuss the details tomorrow at dinner, for now, we need to get back through this Labyrinth before nightfall. We would fare much better on foot if you would be so kind as to see that these horses get back to Gribbin."

"Yes, yer majesty," the dwarf took Chataigne's reigns as Jareth dismounted and handed Bagheera over to him. "Whatta you mean dinner…tomorrow night?" He gave the king a quizzical and suspicious look.

"You, Hoggle, and your family are formally invited to dine with us tomorrow night at the castle in honor of our new guest."

"It's Hoggle!" Over the years the response had become second nature.

"That's what I said," the king replied.

"So it is," he was even more suspicious now. Glancing at Sarah, he saw the same smile he had seen on the king earlier. "Well, for Sarah," he stressed, "we accept."

"Splendid. You will arrive at six, dinner will be served at six thirty." Jareth approached the Labyrinth door. Sarah placed a kiss atop Hoggle's head and followed to the king's side. "Ahem," the king coughed.

Hoggle hadn't moved, still frozen to the spot where he stood at Jareth's invitation.

"Would you mind?" Jareth indicated to the doors.

"Huh?…Oh," the dwarf swung an arm and the doors flew open. "This oughtta be interestin'!"

He had spoken true their first day out when he told her that without horses, they could easily master the Labyrinth in a couple of hours. Listening carefully to his instructions they reached the Goblin City by early evening. "I'm impressed," she admitted when they were finally done scattering about and could more leisurely stroll through the city.

"My magic lives in the Labyrinth, it is not difficult to manipulate one's self."

"No, you called Hoggle by his name. That's why I'm impressed." Looking away shyly she added, "Thank you for inviting him to dinner. I know that you did that just for me."

'Mostly for her,' he thought. "To be honest, I need someone to help me run this place while I'm seeing to your stay. Since he was the one to watch over things while I was Aboveground, I thought it best to ask him once more."

"I see. Well I do hope that I'm not taking up too much of your time."

"It is a necessary distraction," he said flatly.

Sarah didn't know whether to be offended or not. A trumpet blew very near where they walked keeping her from deciding. "The girl! The girl!" a goblin screamed as he ran round in circles. "Someone alert the king!"

Another cried out, "It's your job to alert the king."

"Right," he agreed. "Yer majesty!" he shouted.

"Yes," Jareth replied coolly.

"The girl!"

He was in the mood to play, "Which girl?"

"The mortal girl who returned to your Labyrinth."

"What of her?"

"She's returned…again."

Jareth knelt to face the goblin, donning a look of feigned shock, he inquired, "Where?"

The goblin held up one hand to shield Sarah's eyes and with the other hand pointed a finger in her direction. "She's right there your majesty."

Leaning into the goblin, Jareth cupped his ear and whispered, "I know. I'm the one who brought her here," and then rose, his hands on his hips, his throat filled with laughter.

Bracing himself for a swift kick or hearty toss, the goblin waited. No retaliation came. Jareth continued to laugh as he and Sarah left the creature and continued toward the castle. Once at the doors, they were greeted by Arulan and two other elfin servants. "Welcome home your grace," they said in unison with curtsies.

Jareth nodded and they rose. "Ladies, I present to you Sarah Williams. By order of the Triumvirate, she will be our guest for the next six weeks. I trust that you will all do everything within your power to make her feel at home."

Arulan rushed to her side, "I've got the seamstress making you a wardrobe of clothes and Mason started on your room yesterday. It should be ready by week's end. Oh, welcome home Sarah," she cried as she flung her arms around the girl.

"Welcome home Lady Sarah," the others said, again with the curtsies.

A tear gathered in the corner of her eye and Sarah took a deep breath trying to keep it there. "Thank you and please, just call me Sarah."

"I'm sure our guest would like to freshen up," Jareth told Arulan.

"Yes, your grace," she said waving to the other women. "Take her to the king's bath and let her get ready. You'll find a wardrobe in his chambers with her clothes." Arulan then turned to the king, "How was your trip?"

"You moved her clothes into my room?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I just assumed. It is the only bed in the castle where she could fit comfortably, unless you were to send her to the stables with Gribbin."

Jareth smiled, "Our trip was educational. The Triumvirate has made quite the number of exceptions for this mortal. Pour us some tea and we'll talk while she readies herself."

Arulan looked at him puzzled by his willingness to share of himself. "Your majesty, you wish to talk with me?"

"Indeed I do Arulan," he replied, reaching out his arm for her to take. "Tell me, would you say we were," he paused, "friends?"

His servant sat in awe as Jareth told her how Sarah had displayed her magic before the Triumvirate. When he admitted the men had suggested Sarah stay in the castle, Arulan blushed and smiled widely. "You are a relentless woman," the king admonished.

"Nothing is the same since her arrival, least of all you. I live in a fantasy world, my king, what kind of immortal would I be if I didn't believe in happy endings."

Jareth leaned in to place a kiss against her forehead, filling Arulan's heart with happiness.

"Your grace," he heard two distinct voices call. Jareth set down his tea cup and acknowledged the maids.

Sarah stood between them in a simple sheath dress the color of emeralds. Her hair had been brushed until it shone and cascaded over her shoulders obscuring the straps of the dress. Two silver combs pulled the sides back from her face, adding fullness while accentuating her natural beauty. Her lips, stained red, the only thing to be touched by make up. The smile she'd worn down the stairs to the sitting room had disappeared when she was lead inside to find Jareth kissing Arulan, no matter how innocently. She kept her mouth steady, lips pressed together, refusing to smile or frown. "Milady," Jareth said with a bow, "won't you join us for a cup of tea."

Choosing a chair, rather than the settee where the king had been with Arulan, Sarah folded her legs neatly at the ankle and placed a napkin across her lap. One of the maids held her cup while the other poured. "Cream or sugar," she asked.

"Both," Sarah replied. "Thank you."

Arulan sensed her discomfort, knowing the king would be too enthralled with her appearance, she decided to break the tension herself. "So Sarah, what did you think of the further reaches of the Underground."

"It was all very lovely," she said before sipping her tea, "and very charming." When she spoke again her focus was on Jareth.

With the two of them so intensely focused on one another it was Arulan who now felt uncomfortable. "Yes, well I'm sure that you'll find there are many beautiful," the elf doubted by now that she was even listening, "areas in the kingdom." Great relief befell the servant when the doorbell rang. "Thank the Supreme One," she muttered

Arulan and the other two maids greeted the guest and brought him to the sitting room to be announced to the king, "Your grace, Deverell of Burggraaf."

Jareth rose, brows knitted when a stranger had been announced. "Speak your business," he commanded.

"Your majesty, I come at the request of the Cleric." His hand thrust forward, a scroll in his palm. Jareth unrolled the document and skimmed it's content. "You'll find that his honor has asked me to join you in this time of upheaval that I may help you rule your kingdom until such time as you are no longer in need of my services. There are a number of glowing recommendations which I am happy to provide, but none so impressive as having been chosen by the Cleric himself. In Burggraaf I am known to be an honest and courageous fey. I have no desire to be king, not of Burggraaf and not of the Underground." This was to attempt to reassure Jareth who was now looking him over carefully. Lowering to one knee, Deverell continued, "I have no doubt you will find me able, I only pray that you will deem me worthy, your grace." That said he bowed his head to the king.

"Come, join us for tea," Jareth told the fey. "Ladies, I expect that you will make arrangements for this guest as well. You are dismissed."

"You accept my assistance?"

Jareth's closed in on Deverell. "I trust no one," he said coldly, "of course of those I doubt, I doubt the Cleric least. You come at his command, I will not refuse his gift."

"At your command, my grace."

Sarah poured him a cup of tea, smiling at him as she inquired, "Cream or Sugar?" He held his hand up to indicate 'No, thank you,' and returned her smile. Deverell was a rather striking fey. Long blonde hair gathered by a band at the back of his neck, warm brown eyes that were very expressive, all risen six feet from the ground by a broad body for which his tights and clinging shirt left little to be imagined.

Jareth rose his eyebrows at Sarah's examination of the newcomer. "You will stay in the barn with Gribbin until we can ready a room for you. Tonight you will dine with the staff, tomorrow I will meet with you to discuss how I can best utilize your being here."

"Absolutely," he agreed. Then turning his attentions to the mortal, "I'm sorry," he apologized, "I do not recall that we were formally introduced. My name is Deverell."

"Sarah," she said accepting his hand.

"Sarah, what an uncommon name?"

"Not really, it's very common…where I come from."

"You? You are the mortal, the one who will rebuild the Underground?" He addressed the king, "This is the reason I've come to free your time? Alas, I should rethink my feelings on being king, your majesty. I see now that the benefits greatly outweigh the burdens."

Sarah blushed. "Yes, well you're not a king and you certainly shall not become one within my kingdom," Jareth pointed out. "Now then, can you elaborate on your talents as well as you can your envy?"

"Quite," Deverell countered. "In my kingdom, I maintain the daily business on behalf of the Triumvirate. I keep the records, serve as liaison to both the high counsel and the neighboring kingdoms, arrange trades, oversee new constructions…"

Jareth interrupted his laundry list of good deeds, "Can you fight?"

"Your majesty?"

"Can you fight? It is a greatly uncommon event for a mortal to reside in the Underground. I have my reasons to believe that her stay may not be thoroughly peaceful." It was Tiberon who crossed his mind.

"I'm handy with a saber, but I have never fought in battle, merely in sport."

"Then you will train. Until you can defend this kingdom, you are of little use to me." The bells for dinner sounded. "Deverell, allow me to show you to the main dining hall. Sarah, you and I will take our supper in my office."

"Why?" she questioned defiantly.

Deverell looked at the mortal in awe of her insolence. Clearing his throat, Jareth reiterated, "We will take our supper in my office." He extend his elbow.

Sarah slid her hand through his arm obediently, "Yes your grace."

The Goblin King opened the door to his office and extended his free arm to Sarah expecting her to walk through the threshold; however the mortal stood in the doorway, jaws parted, eyes wide. It was a beautiful room. On one wall a fireplace and a sitting area done in all burgundy, consisting of two arm chairs and a chesterfield sofa around a mahogany coffee table, all accented by Moroccan accessories. One whole wall was a built in bookcase with a ladder which slid along rails allowing you to reach to the top of the impressive display. The king's desk matched the rest of the wood in the room, behind him a hug credenza and what Sarah assumed was a window hidden behind two drawn, wine colored, velvet curtains. Jareth smiled at her child like innocence. "Go on in," he told her softly.

Sarah released his arm and entered the room, turning to see the wall that had eluded her from the doorway. There were two large oil paintings. It crossed her mind to ask Jareth who the male fey in the paintings were, but before she could ask, he was popping the cork to one of the champagne bottles which had been placed in a silver bucket in the corner of the room. Like lightning he downed two flutes before opening the second bottle and offering Sarah a glass, "I think it's best if we see to it that you don't drink from the enchanted bottle. Otherwise we might just begin old problems again."

"Fine by me," Sarah replied and the two clinked glass. Sarah hadn't much cared for champagne in all the times she'd had it at weddings and cast parties, but this was sweet, the flavor different than any other she'd known. "Mmm," she said finishing the glass.

Elegantly lined eyes rose when she did this before a gloved hand refilled her flute. Quietly, Arulan entered, leaving behind two dinner trays before excusing herself with no more than a curtsy. "It would appear as though dinner were served." To test his magic, Jareth made a graceful sweeping motion of his arm and the trays were set before the two arm chairs, a roaring fire accompanying the meal. "Allow me," he extended his arm to Sarah and this time when she fed her arm through, his glove clasped down on top of her fingers. She couldn't resist looking at him from the corner of her eye. The king was returning to normal and it suited him well. When she noticed him looking back, Sarah turned down her eyes and tilted her head away. Jareth led her to her seat and unveiled her tray. Beneath the silver cover was a generous helping of prime rib, covered in a creamy horseradish sauce, snow peas and mashed potatoes. "Look," Jareth chuckled, the champagne obviously effecting him by now, "something I didn't have to kill. What a relief?" He assumed his seat beside her and they began to eat their meal.

Suddenly self conscious of every move she made, Sarah ate in delicately cut bite sized pieces and sipped at her champagne like a hummingbird gathering nectar. "Everything tastes delicious," she said politely.

"I'm glad it's to your liking," the king responded. Wagging a finger the champagne bucket came to set on the small end table between. This disappointed Sarah because it obstructed her peripheral view of the king. "Your glass is nearly empty, allow me." Jareth levitated the glass into his hand and poured the golden liquid to the brim. Refreshing his own glass, he held the flute high, waited for Sarah to reciprocate and toasted, "To the beginning of a beautiful friendship." Both drank deeply from their glass.

When they'd both eaten all they could, the king snapped his fingers sending the trays away to the kitchen. "Oh," he called out, spinning on the pointed toe of one of his boots, "this is divine. Sarah," he said crouching down before her, "wish for something."

The mortal's lips parted and she waited for words to fall, but they refused come. For the first time in as long as she could remember, there was nothing to wish for. "I…I…" she stuttered.

"Yes, you wish…"

"I don't know what to wish for."

"Wish for anything, absolutely anything."

"You don't understand," she said, her lips searching for the rim of her flute. "I don't want anything."

"From me is it? You don't want anything from me?" He stood and walked away from her, hurt and angry.

"No." Smoothing some wrinkles from her skirt she tried to avoid his glare, "There is nothing I need which you have not provided me and," alcohol had a way of bringing truth to the surface, "there is nothing I want that could make me any happier, at least not right now." She'd added that last bit on in an effort to distract the king from her admission of satisfaction with him.

For a moment he kept his gaze on her. Not a raised eyebrow or the turn of a lip to indicate that he had even heard her reply. A wave of his hand and a perfectly round crystal perched upon his fingertips. Tossing it to her, he slurred, "Take a look in that and I'm sure you'll see something you want."

Still fairly dexterous, despite the amount of alcohol she had consumed, Sarah caught the orb, not daring to look into to it, for fear of what she'd see. Instead she rolled it over the back of her hand, twirling it this way and that as if it were a piece of her hair she'd decided to twist out of frustration.

"Who taught you that?"

"No one. Guess I kind of picked it up on my own."

Not willing to be out done, Jareth produced four more crystals. Three spun in the palm of his hand while one rode on top. "Bet you can't do this," he challenged. Jareth produced three more crystals and blew them across the room to his mortal.

Sarah caught the crystals, balanced three in her palm, topping those off with the one she'd already been manipulating and tried to get them to spin. Though she put forth an admirable effort, her palm was much smaller than the king's and her fingers could not span the bottom of the crystal pyramid. The orbs went bouncing to the ground tinkling as they did so. Jareth snorted. On her knees, Sarah crawled after the wayward orbs. The champagne had rendered her unable to stand and she began to wonder how Jareth, who had completely polished off his bottle and was now on his second glass from hers, was still able to stand let alone work those crystals of his.

One of the orbs to escape Sarah's palm had rolled across the room beneath one of the oil paintings. Curiosity controlled her when she noticed the glint of a golden plate on the frame. Seems they had both been labeled, upon closer inspection. Sarah read the gold plates below the paintings and asked Jareth, "Who are they?"

"Darien is my grandfather. His father, Oberon, was the first true king of the Underground. He had those paintings done and hung in this room, where they have remained ever since. Corwyn was Darien's brother." Jareth left it at that.

"But Corwyn was older than Darien, according to these plates." Sarah ran a finger across Corwyn's name plate and a quick flash of a male fey, she assumed it was Darien's father, appeared before her eyes. Inside she felt a strong love and a sharp pain. Her breath hitched in her throat. "Why wasn't he king?"

"I never said he wasn't king." Jareth's eyes narrowed and he looked at her intently, noticing her look of concentration.

"He was king, but not for very long. There was a great tragedy and that was when," Sarah pulled her hand away from the plate and gasped, "Darien took over."

"Sarah?"

With a sadness that she could not imagine her eyes fell on Jareth, "That poor man, he lost his first born son."

Immediately the king hoisted up the bottle of champagne to ensure that he had been serving her from the correct one. "Sarah," he closed in on her, "how do you know these things?"

"It started before I left Aboveground, started with a watch. When I held it I saw the man who bought it," she half lied attempting to keep Jareth from knowing what Christian had done to her. "Then when I got here it happened with Hoggle, then and with April and again when I was in your bed." 'Oops,' her mind said as the last location slipped out.

At first it escaped him, what she had just said, "You've got sight."

"Twenty, twenty, thank you," she said trying to be coy.

"No, I mean you're a seer. That's uncommon, even here."

"It's painful," she said raising her hand to her temple.

Jareth's soggy brain started to string her words together, "So that's how you knew about April." Sarah nodded. The king looked at her a devilish grin beginning to manipulate his lips, "And what did you see in my bed?"

Nerves drove her to refill her glass with the last of what was left of the champagne. She wet her throat with a sip of the liquid, it had suddenly gone very dry. "You snore," she said the last of her quick wit leaving her as she set about to find the other crystals that had toppled away.

On all fours, Sarah peered beneath the couch. Jareth looked on, pleased at the way the thin fabric of her dress hugged her backside. He could tell the mortal was growing more comfortable with the ways of the Underground, for no panty line disrupted the smooth flow of the fabric. When she resurfaced, Sarah had recovered two more of the kings crystals. Rotating them between her two palms, Sarah began to laugh.

"What is it?" Jareth asked.

"I was just wondering about something."

"Yes," he cocked an eyebrow.

"I was just wondering what Arulan would say if she caught me playing with your balls." Again, she erupted with hysterical laughter.

The double meaning of her query did not escape the king, "She would most probably be thrilled."

Sarah tossed the crystals back to him and he made them each promptly disappear. "Oh, please, spare me," she said struggling to her feet. "I don't want to hear about your sexual exploits." Jareth caught her in his arms as she stumbled back. For a minute she thought she saw something in the enlarged pupil of his left eye, but she dismissed it as being the result of too much champagne. Her eyes narrowed on him, "How many woman have you been with anyway?"

"A few," he began.

"That's a perfectly ambiguous answer now isn't it," Sarah huffed.

"Hundred," Jareth finished.

"A few hundred," she repeated, shock filled her tone.

"This month," he tried to hold back a laugh, but failed when he saw the look on the mortal's face. Tiny hands swatted at his chest when she realized he was teasing. "Does that some how seem surprising to you?"

"I guess not, if I think about it, if my brain weren't so soaked in alcohol that I could do the math. 365 days a year for about 200 years, times five or six woman at once."

Jareth laughed deeply, "You give me too much credit. My exploits are far from nightly and I have never taken more than one woman to my bed at a time." Unconsciously he'd begun running one hand along her spine, "Is there something about that scenario you find intriguing?"

"No," she said nervously. "I just assumed, you being king and all, you would be prone to the occasional indulgence."

"Even before I was king, I did not need a harem of woman to satisfy me. As I've grown older, I've come to learn that I only need one."

"Oh," Sarah managed only the one syllable before he pulled her close and occupied her lips. Her mind swam. 'Only one woman,' she thought. 'Arulan. The woman who waited on his every need. Probably the woman whose experiences she had shared in Jareth's bed. But then why would he jeopardize his relationship to succumb to the physical attraction they admitted for one another and satisfy her desire for him, merely because she was visiting the Underground? To hell with it,' Sarah decided when she felt Jareth's tongue probe her mouth, find her tongue and glide over it. She responded with a fervor of her own. Blonde strands filled her fingertips as her hands left his shoulders, rose along the side of his neck and settled under his jaw where she could feel his muscles propelling his mouth to massage her own. 'A few hundred woman,' she thought. The number no longer surprised her.

Still able to taste the champagne that lingered on her lips, Jareth felt even more drunk as he kissed her. It wasn't until he felt another piece of his soul slipping away that he realized his lowered inhibitions were allowing him to kiss her with love in his heart. A bit too late, he broke the kiss. "It's late. You should go to bed."

"I'm not a child, Jareth, I can stay up passed midnight."

"You're going to have one hell of a headache in the morning, trust me, you'll be thankful I forced you to get the extra rest."

Sarah let her head fall against his shoulder, "Did you make them all beg for you? All your hundreds of conquests?"

Scooping her up he transported them to his chambers. Tossing back the duvet, he lay her on the bed, "Goodnight Sarah."

"Jareth," she reached for his hand.

Sitting beside her he smoothed over her long black hair with his glove, "Yes."

"Be with me." Doe eyes looked up at him.

"Not tonight." Sarah's face washed over with hurt, "It would be considered less than honorable for me to take advantage of your current condition."

She propped up on her elbows, "What condition?" she demanded. "It's not like I'm tied to your bed posts, unable to escape, although, it's something to think about. I know what I want Jareth and I want you."

"Something to think about indeed," he smiled down at her. "In fact, why don't you close those foggy green eyes of yours and think about it. In fifteen minutes, if you decide you still," he cleared his throat, "want me, I will oblige."

"Sucker," Sarah told him as she closed her eyes and lay her head back on his pillow.

It was less than five minutes later that her chest settled into a steady rise and fall, the sounds of sleep reverberating in her windpipe. Jareth tucked the covers around her, "Alcohol," he said, "ironic that it should so increase one's desire when it dramatically decreases one's ability."


	22. Chapter 21

**CHAPTER TWENTY ONE - SEEING IS BELIEVING**

Sometime after one, there was a gentle rapping on the king's office door. "Come in," he said graciously from inside the room, not bothering to get up from his desk. Arulan entered first, Sarah staggered in behind her. She wore a fresh dress, green, like her cheeks, and her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. Her eyes avoided everything but the floor. "Thank you, Arulan," Jareth managed before the elf was gone once more. "Sarah, have you eaten."

"I don't even want to see food for at least a week," she exaggerated. The king chuckled, "Arulan said you wanted to see me as soon as I was awake."

"Yes, well, why not have a seat and you can let me know when that happens." Jareth came out from behind his desk and joined his guest in the sitting area before the fireplace.

"Why aren't you miserable right now?" Sarah asked finally looking at him, his clear white eyes, his fresh face. 'Bastard,' she thought. "You drank more than I did last night? How are you even standing?"

The Goblin King smiled disarmingly, "I'm actually sitting."

"Either way."

"I'm afraid my magic gives me a certain elevated metabolism which means I can oxidize the liquor a far sight quicker than you, or so it appears."

"Yeah well, what happened to that part of your soul I'm supposed to have. Doesn't that include your metabolism?"

"No, I'm sorry," he said still smiling. "I'm afraid that is a benefit of my magic only." A sweep of his hand and he held a glass of tomato juice. "Try this," Jareth suggested as he offered her the glass.

"What is it? Is it a Bloody Mary? Because if it is, I can assure you based on my college experience, that old hair of the dog remedy doesn't work."

"Bloody Mary? Hair of the dog?"

Genuine confusion ruled his face, "Never mind. What's in here?"

"Tomato juice," he told her. After making a pass over the rim with his hand, he added, "With a bit of magic in it."

Sarah wasn't particularly fond of tomato juice but she drank the vile fluid down anyway. No sooner did it hit her empty stomach had she begun to feel better. The bags beneath her eyes lightened and the seething pain which seemed to clench her temple began to relax. With most of her discomfort out of the way, Sarah was now quite aware of just how ragged she must appear to the king who was dressed in his usual royal finery. She made a feeble attempt to tighten her ponytail.

"Feeling better?" the king asked when he saw the green fading from her cheeks.

"I am," Sarah admitted.

"Good." Jareth stood and began pacing back and forth in front of her. "Sarah, I...I don't know if you recall some of the things we discussed last night." The woman slunk down in the sofa. "I don't mean to bring up anything that might be unpleasant, but..."

'Nothing here to hide under,' she thought as she looked around the room. 'No fire in the fireplace, maybe while his back was turned...'

"I hope you don't mind me asking."

His words forced Sarah to refocus her attention, "Huh?"

"Have you heard a word I've said?"

"We both drank a lot last night and I don't think we should put much value in any of it. If I've offended you, I apologize and if I've made a fool of myself, I would appreciate your not mentioning it."

"And if I believe you had a vision concerning my great grandfather, my grandfather and my great uncle, what would you have me do about that?" Jareth's tone hinted displeasure at her selfishness.

The paintings! Immediately she looked at the likeness of the two men, her vision refreshed by the sight of them. "I suppose you're angry with me."

"No, not at all. It's only that I think it best if no one else knew about your abilities." Sarah waited for him to go on, "Sight is an uncommon ability in this world. We haven't had a seer in this kingdom," he thought back to the diary entries he'd read over the other day, "in a very long time."

"A seer?"

"Someone who can sense aura, uncover the past, even at times, see the future. Their words are taken as law in this realm. They go unquestioned. There are some here that would abuse your...talents."

"That's what you call it."

"It is a very rare and desirable gift." Was he still talking about her magic?

"Yeah, well it hurts like hell while your at it. Not to mention, did you ever think that sometimes I get to see things I don't want to see?"

"Such as?" he asked with concern as he reclaimed his seat beside her.

'Christian, with another woman,' Sarah thought. 'You, with another woman. Is that enough?' "Nothing, Jareth. Are we through?"

"No, I'm sorry, but we're not. I need to know everything you saw last night." The king knew that there was more to the mortal's hesitation than it might appear, but it wasn't his way to encourage others to confide in him. Still he was curious, Sarah had seen something of his grandfather's past and if any of it could help solve the age old mystery of his great uncle's murder, he had to know.

"I barely remember being in this room. What makes you think I remember that vision?" She felt herself becoming the subject of his doubtful stare. "I remember thinking Corwyn was older and being confused as to why he wasn't king." Her head clenched with pain once more causing her to lean her elbows on her knees. Jareth's hand went instinctively to her back, the other hand pulling the glass from her grip and setting it on the table.

"Sarah? Sarah, are you all right?"

Though she found comfort in the sound of the king's voice, she heard Hoggle's words override him. 'You're the one in control Sarah. Nothing you see can hurt you.'

"He knows...knows he shouldn't have favorites, not when it comes to his own children, but the baby tends to want its mother more, he reasoned. It was his job to groom his son to become king. He was the first, he would set the precedent. And so Corwyn got most of his attention and secretly, most of his love. The paintings were done on his son's 75th birthdays marking their becoming men. He would sit, at that desk, admiring Corwyn, forming a relationship with Darien that he could never have face to face, envisioning the son he wanted rather than the one he had." Sarah's head rose slowly, her eyes filled with tears, "Oberon thought it would be him they would murder. What no one knew was that he prayed for it. Prayed that it would spare his children and take him instead. Gwendolyn would be heart broken without her husband and she'd hold tight to her baby while their eldest son slipped seamlessly into the throne. Maybe if Darien was preoccupied with his mother, he'd straighten up his life, give up the women and the drinking." Wiping at her eyes, she continued, "No king should have to bury his son. It was grey the day they laid him to rest. Oberon was furious, mad at the sky for refusing to chase away clouds that his own sorrow had put there in the first place. Gwendolyn never cried and Oberon doubted her for that. They had returned to the castle for their son's burial ceremony, those last hours before returning home, he spent here. In his mind he had no children, a wife who couldn't comfort him and his grief had forced him to grow old. It was almost a relief when Darien took the throne. Oberon could take his wife back to their home, where they would be free of Darien's sweet words and fraudulent grief, leave him to his cold stone castle, which served only as a living memorial to Corwyn, who should have been king for another hundred years or more." Sarah looked into Jareth's mismatched eyes, for a minute she saw her own reflection before the tears obscured her view entirely. This was what Jareth had to grow up in the shadow of, the legacy he was left. A trembling hand reached out for the medallion which he wore almost as constantly as his gloves. "This was Oberon's, given to him by his father. He gave it to Corwyn."

"My grandfather took it from him. It would have been considered an insult to bury it with my great uncle."

"Oberon's glad the necklace made it into your hands." Sarah drew back her hand, "But he hasn't returned to the castle, not since..."

"The funeral," Jareth finished her sentence. "I've been to see him a couple of times."

"He wishes you'd come more often."

Jareth didn't know how to reply. After an uncomfortable amount of silence had passed, he asked, "Would you like to return to my chamber so that you have time to ready yourself for dinner.

Sarah looked down at herself, her hair limp in the knot at the back of her head, her eyes swollen from crying. "I would like to clean myself up some," she admitted, "but only if you've heard everything you need to hear."

"And then some." Jareth stood, offering a hand to his mortal as he rose. When Sarah placed her tiny hand in his, his thumb rolled gently over her knuckles as he guided her toward the door. Once there he gave a gentle tug to a long braided cord which summoned Arulan to his office. "If you would be so kind as to take Sarah back to her room and see to it that she has something more formal for this evening."

"That's really not necessary," Sarah offered.

"Something formal Arulan," the king let go of Sarah's hand, using his index finger to catch her chin, raising her eyes to meet his own. "It pleases me to do these things for you. You are a guest here, the dinner is being held in your honor, you should have something formal."

"Thank you," she smiled, before Arulan, also smiling, turned her to leave.

Jareth returned to his desk, opened his journal and began scrawling down the date for today's entry. Before he could touch quill to paper, there was more knocking on his door. He angrily replaced the quill in the ink well. Only Sarah's presence had been requested, this was just an interruption. "Come in," he grumbled.

Deverell entered, stood before the king and went to one knee, "Your grace, please pardon my coming unannounced."

"What is it that you need?"

"Your grace mentioned earlier that I would require training before I could be of any assistance. It's been half the day now and I haven't been asked to learn a thing."

The king came from behind his desk, "Rise." He began a deliberate circle around the fey, "It was my intention to give you this day for familiarizing yourself with your new surroundings, but if you are so intent upon training I suppose I could arrange for Dalkeil to begin after tonight's dinner. Is that your desire?"

"Indeed, your grace. Might I ask what Sir Dalkeil will train me regarding?"

Chuckling at him, Jareth replied, "Dalkeil is a master in several forms of combat. While in my employ he has trained armies, I'm sure he'll find working with you to be little, if any, challenge. Trust me when I tell you, you stand to learn much from him."

Deverell's face hung in visible disappointment, "I see."

"You had anticipated some other arrangement?" the king asked.

"Well, your grace, I must say, I was looking forward to you training me. I want to be able to handle any situation the same way you would."

"You'll find that I lack the patience to teach others, Deverell." Jareth's tone became authoritative, "In fact, you would be surprised by just how many areas there are in which my patience grows thin."

"Yes your grace."

Jareth took a seat in the chair closest to the fireplace. "Come and sit with me a moment, boy." Deverell took his place on the couch, facing the king. "I get the impression that you are somehow desperate to impress me. Please do not think me unkind when I tell you this, but I've come to think of myself as a bit of an original. I have heard it said that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery; however, I have little appreciation for attempts at duplication. 'Tis a far better service we do to be ourselves. Besides, no one likes a kiss ass." Jareth leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms before him, locking his fingers. "Lastly, you overestimate how much your presence here is required. I'm not so blind that I do not know precisely why it is the Cleric sent you, but the truth remains that if anything so heavy duty that it requires you to act as king should occur during my distraction with the mortal, there would be no question where my loyalties would lie. Most days, you will have little more to do than control the unruly goblins in the city surrounding the castle and weed through my mail for items which must receive my attention, handling the more menial tasks, thus freeing my time. I'm having you trained in combat only because the mortal makes this castle a target and, if necessary, I expect that you will give your life to protect her."

After some silence, Deverell swallowed hard. "Your majesty?"

"The girl is regenerating this kingdom, nothing can happen to her while she is here. Not to mention she is a mortal, which by definition makes her far more susceptible to injury and the fatal results thereof. You are expected to defend her with your life. If this is a condition which you do not feel you can accept, you may leave now."

The young fey looked at the king. His eyes had spoken only seriousness when he propositioned Deverell. "Do you truly believe that it would come to that?"

"What I believe is irrelevant. The only thing that matters is that Sarah is safe," he quickly added, "and this kingdom is restored."

"I agreed when the Cleric chose me that I would serve you in any way you asked. If this is what you ask of me your grace, then this is the service I will provide." The gravity in his eyes as he spoke matched Jareth's.

"You will hear it said of me that I am not one to dole out compliments," the index fingers of his hands templed. "While what they say is the truth, I will admit this to you. You are a man of honorable intention. I can see that. While you allow yourself to show fear, you do not run from it. You have a healthy respect for that which you think you cannot handle. Quick wit is your greatest weapon. A well hidden retort can alleviate one's frustration and if disguised in a curtain of well spoken grammar, your foe leaves none the more offended and none the less aware that you have trumped him. Likewise in battle, think in the instant. Just now, when I said you would be expected to give your life if necessary, your initial reaction was most likely a concurrent one. Yet you stopped and thought and, in doing so, you allowed yourself to doubt, you allowed yourself to fear. Do not be afraid to be the fey that you are capable of being."

"Yes your majesty."

"We are done. Allow me to show you to the door. There is much I need to finish before tonight's dinner. You are expected to dress formally, if you do not have formal attire, my seamstress can fit you with something." Jareth rose and began to lead Deverell from the room.

"That will not be necessary your grace, I was told in advance of your pension for formalities and packed accordingly." Deverell gave him a small bow before turning to leave.

Jareth swung the door open with his magic, "Very well."

"Your grace, may I speak freely a moment?" Without answering, Jareth nodded his head and gave a quick upward jerk of his eyebrows as if to say with curiosity, 'You may.' "It would normally not occur to me to tell a king, or any high fey, they were incorrect in what they did or spoke, but with all do respect, your grace, tonight I have witnessed a grievous error on your part."

"Is that so?" The king's stance became defensive as he locked cold eyes on the fey who stood before him.

"Indeed. Not but a few minutes ago you stood where you stand now and said to me that you lacked the patience to teach others. Yet, as I leave you now, you have given me a lesson I would be foolish to ignore." He bowed once more, "Good day, your grace."

Again he resumed his position at the desk, cleared his throat and took quill in hand. From the corner of his eye he watched the door, waiting for the knock, almost daring someone to interrupt him once more. Though no one came, the mood to create an entry had passed. Instead, the king sat back in his chair. One leg kicked at the ground sending his chair spinning in a circle. The motion made his head swim, "How you turn my world you precious thing." Those were words he had spoken before. He had seen truth in them then, but if it were possible, he saw gospel in them now.

Not ten days ago, he gathered his pathetic goblin army and sent them to infiltrate the sectors of the Underground. If Jareth couldn't play with magic, he would play with power. Without hesitation or regret he would bring his kingdom shaking to its knees. What was left? The lands were ruined the subjects already destitute. Why not have some fun? Why not make the Underground as lost, lonely and unbearable as was its king?

Now, there he sat, spinning like a top, giddy as a school boy. Having just ordered a pretty new dress for his mortal and taken the brash, though inexperienced, Deverell under his wing. Her being around had changed him. Sarah had a way of softening his heart, though she was not without the ability to harden other organs. The king digressed. Still there was truth to it. Seeing the Underground alive made him want it alive, made him put aside his petty vengeance for a greater good that seemed to perpetually escape his narrow conceptual grasp. Seeing Sarah made him want her to be with him always, but this was a decision he could not make, which required feelings he would not admit. "Sarah Williams, why do I allow you to have this power over me when you won't grant me the same in return?" The chair slowed it's orbital motion as the king focused on the ceiling.

'If only I had seen one time when love worked out,' Jareth thought. But what had he seen in all his years? Marriages of convenience, marriage for stature, political gain and it was all perfectly acceptable. Among the commoners, few treated their marriages with the respect that they had pledged on their wedding days. Most had affairs outside the constraints of their vows, without so much as the batting of an eyelash. His world was prolific with courtesans and although he had been born and raised among the mentality, it angered him. That was the reason he refused to train the women that were brought to him. Even the idea that he had taken so many women to his bed revolted him. Males tended to have their needs, and Jareth after all, was just a fey. Besides, he hadn't made any of them false promises. He merely requested their silence, thought of his mortal, went about the act with a certain amount of automation and then back to his business until the desire rose again. He gave himself to none of them in soul or in spirit. They satisfied his need and he gave them the status boost they quested for. Nausea overcame him and he wondered if he could look at his prowess the same now that he had been with Sarah and if he could continue the charade when she was gone.

In fact, Sarah brought many things into question for him. These two things most prevalently; however, there were volumes more. He questioned the duties of the king, the way he was expected to treat her, the way he was expected to treat his subjects. What if a child were wished away while she were here? She had not at all appreciated what transpired with Toby, what would she think of him when he tormented yet another young and careless someone and the child in their care? He worried about being ostentatious and condescending, worried about his dress and his manner. Jareth felt himself grow rigid and forget to breathe. "This is the most ridiculous I have ever behaved," the king growled as he slammed his fists onto the desk top, snapping the quill in two. "Damn," he cussed as he watched the feather gliding toward the stone floor. The tip made a clinking sound as it landed in his waste bin.

He tried to force himself to remember that her mortal magic allowed her to delve into his deepest secrets as easily as she had invaded the secrets of the Labyrinth. What else would she uncloak in her remaining weeks with him? All these efforts he exerted to keep her at arm's length's, only to be undone by magic as strong as his own, magic he could not counter. The seer was right all those years ago, this woman would be his undoing.

His mind could have written a book about the way he felt for her, the love, the hatred, the passion generated by both and the friction created between them. Yet, when the means were in his hands, he couldn't scrawl a word. She welled a contradiction in him, empowered and yet emasculated, freedom with entrapment, glory dimmed by shame. Yes, contradiction, that one word, described them apart, described them together. What had the Triumvirate done allowing them this taste of honey? And the Cleric, the ever pushy Cleric, who'd sent this boy to do his will, thinking that Jareth would just sign over his kingdom to Deverell so that he could focus his full energy upon the mortal. Arulan was just as bad, purporting to know his heart's desires, never failing to remind him just how well she knew the side of him that almost no one was permitted to see. "Not enough men in this castle," Jareth grunted. "Perhaps Deverell will prove to be a happy edition to our motley little crew."

Behind him, he opened the curtains, allowing what was left of this day's sun to come streaming through the glass and cast its rays upon the credenza, upon his chair, over his desk, over himself. What an amazing warmth it possessed! How had this escaped him for so long? He sat there, enveloped by the golden rays, a smile pulling up on the corners of his mouth, relaxed, content, happy.

"If you'd stop fidgeting for a second, then maybe I could get this fastened and you'd be more comfortable," Arulan said to Sarah.

"I can't help it, I'm stepping on the hem," she replied.

"Well bustle the sides in your hands until I get this hooked." From behind Sarah, the elf looked into the full length mirror to witness a look of utter confusion. "Like this," she grabbed the fabric and bunched it into her hands until she could see the middle of Sarah's calf, held it there a moment and released it.

Sarah repeated what she had seen Arulan do, shifting all of her weight to one side as she did so. "Arulan, I can barely breath," she practically whined.

"Stand…up…straight," Sarah complied. There was a faint scraping of metal against metal and then a long zipping sound. "Ah, there we have it. Let go of the hem."

Continuing to do as she'd been told, Sarah allowed the fabric to fall from her grip toward the floor. Though she hated to admit it, she looked stunning. The gown which had been made for her was cut from a heavy and yet incredibly satiny deep purple fabric. The straps were thin and looked embroidered, the bodice tight with an umpire waist where the embroidery reappeared, split in the center forming a petty coat in the outer most layer that revealed several layers below which covered her to the ankle. The hem line in the back pooled behind her in a gathered train. Sarah made a half turn in order to see the back of the dress in the mirror. "I'm going to break my neck going down the stairs."

"Nonsense," Arulan told her, "just bustle the sides like we did before only not so high, just a hair above your ankle." She demonstrated. "Look at you. You're an absolute vision, as well you should be after all the work we've done to get you dressed and ready." Arulan had taken each individual ringlet in Sarah's thick mane and pinned it up onto the top of her head, until she had created an elegant look of gently cascading curls that seemed to gather in the back without any visible accessory whatsoever. A few tendrils hung long in the back and framing her face to accentuate. Then she had done the mortal's make up, heavy enough to make her face look flawless, but light enough that she appeared very natural, slightly flushed, with a touch of color to lids, lips and cheeks. Lastly, she had dusted the mortal's chest, shoulders and back with a faint glitter which gave her an amazing glow.

"We? I haven't done anything but stand here. Speaking of which, will I attend dinner barefoot?" she asked the servant while lifting the hem and wiggling her toes.

"Goodness, I almost forgot." Arulan pulled a box from underneath the bag which had held the dress. Inside was a pair of black high heels, with a narrow pointed toe and two long black cords off the heal.

"Ballet slippers?"

"No Sarah, not ballet slippers. Slide your toe in," Arulan instructed, kneeling before her and holding the shoe in place. Once Sarah had stepped into the toe, the elf's hands quickly worked the cords in a criss-cross pattern up her ankle and then tied off the cords. They were what Sarah's mortal friends would have referred to as 'fuck me' shoes, perhaps a bit racy for wearing to dinner with the king and Hoggle, but the dress would cover them so what was the harm. After repeating the process with Sarah's other foot, Arulan stood back, looked over the mortal and thought, 'I can see why Jareth is so taken by this one.' "How's it feel dear? Are you comfortable?"

"I think so," Sarah wobbled around on the shoes for a moment until she got her footing. "Okay, I've got it now," she announced when she had finally managed to adapt into a fluid glide. Shortly thereafter, while Sarah was still practicing her walking, there came a knock at the door. "I'll get it," the mortal offered.

Arulan broke into a sprint in order to beat her to the door. "You most certainly will not," she admonished. "Go and stand over there." Her hands swatted Sarah in the direction of the fireplace before she adjusted her dress, cleared her throat and opened the door. With a subtle curtsy she addressed, "Your majesty."

"No, I'm sorry, it is not." It was Deverell at the door.

"Beg pardon, sir. What can I do for you?" Arulan asked.

"I've come to see the lady Sarah to dinner." Sarah stepped toward him and Deverell looked over her appreciatively.

The elf interrupted, "I'm afraid you may not." She was stern when she spoke, "His majesty, the king, said he would come for the mortal. I cannot allow anyone to escort her but him."

"Surely he would entrust his second in command," Deverell replied confused.

"Not even his own shadow," Arulan stood firm.

All this formality struck Sarah as ridiculous and wholly unnecessary, "Arulan, I don't mind if Deverell escorts me to the dining room."

"But I do," the voice came from behind the fey as he stood in the doorway. "Deverell," the king pronounced his name slowly, "might I have a word with you," he glanced at Arulan, "in private?" Arulan softly closed the door. Jareth paced back and forth before the fey, "Who told you to come and gather the mortal for dinner?"

"No one."

"You took it upon yourself?"

"If I am to defend her with my life, I thought I should get to know about her. Surely you can see that it would be difficult to lay down one's blood for someone they didn't care for."

"You have a direct order from the king, you need nothing more. I'm certain the Cleric gave you a thorough understanding of monarchy before you came here."

"Aye," Deverell conceded.

"You are here to do as I say. Unless you, or anyone else in this castle, receives a direct order from me you are not to approach the mortal, barring, of course, the special permission you have to defend her should she be in peril. Do you understand?" Jareth stopped short in front of Deverell before asking him to confirm comprehension.

"I did not mean to make it seem as if..."

"Do you understand?" the king asked once more.

"Yes, your majesty." He stood motionless before Jareth as it occurred to him that one moment's closeness with the king meant nothing overall, for when he felt crossed, he exerted his dominance freely.

"You may see yourself to the dining hall, the seat to the right of the head has been reserved for you."

"Yes, your majesty."

Taking a moment to allow his anger to subside, the king straightened his vest with a sharp tug and opened the door to his chamber. "Ladies," he greeted them with a graceful bow.

Arulan returned his gesture and then scampered from the room, a wicked grin on her lips. Sarah and Jareth looked at each other for a long moment. She looked positively stunning as she stared back at him, a stiff lower lip accentuating her glower. Beneath what Sarah tried to pass off as a look of castigation, she too participated in this exchange of appreciation. Jareth's tights were a deep plum, tucked into the top of his typical black boots. From beneath his black leather vest flounced a plum painter's shirt. The silver medallion ever present. The gloves he wore perpetually were a soft leather, maybe suede, she couldn't tell for certain from where she was, but she could see they matched the deep hues of his shirt and pants. His blonde hair appeared almost white against the dark fabrics. Sarah felt her back stiffen and her shoulders square. 'I'm not,' she thought. 'Please tell me I'm not posing for him.' Despite what she may have wanted to hear, she was doing just that, forcing her body into a position that accentuated her elevated breasts and allowed the dress she wore to flow along her body in the most flattering way possible.

"You look lovely," Jareth finally mentioned, breaking the silence. Concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, he made a vain attempt to appear undaunted.

When he was finally before her, Sarah cast her eyes on the toes of her shoes, his nearness making it difficult to hold his eye. She saw his hand rise up and unconsciously followed it, captivated by the fluid movement. 'Oh my,' she thought, 'they're velvet.' This close it was easy to tell what fabric his gloves were made of. Jareth cupped his hand and rotated his wrist. Instantly a choker materialized and draped over his fingers, the band constructed of the same type of elegant embroidery which made up the straps of her dress. From a loop at the center a miniaturized version of Jareth's amulet hung, made of silver, swaying left to right. Sarah was hypnotized by the light rocking allowing her mouth to fall open slightly. In question, she turned her eyes to Jareth.

"Allow me," he said, bringing forth his other hand to undo the clasp and fit the band around Sarah's neck. It was practically impossible to hook the clasp from in front of her, so Jareth leaned in, hoping that peaking over her shoulder he could work the fastening.

When his mouth came closer to her own, Sarah captured his lips, placing a long, appreciative kiss upon them. She felt Jareth return her affections, although not as deeply as she might have liked, his velvet gloves tightening around her throat, his thumbs stroking her jaw. "Thank you," Jareth said when Sarah had broken the kiss, "but I was just trying to do up your clasp." The king moved the two ends of the band, still pinched between his fingers. Sarah's face went red, but Jareth only smiled in the arrogant manor he always smiled, giving the mortal the impression that she had really given him an upper hand. "There we have it," he said triumphantly as he stood back to look at the medallion as it fell into the hollow of her throat.

A shaking hand reached up to touch it as Sarah turned toward the mirror, "It's beautiful. Who did it belong to?"

"What makes you think it belong to anyone?"

"There's a faint energy. I felt it the minute you put it around my neck, but I can't see who she was."

Jareth's face grew solemn, "The energy you claim to feel may be some residual magic Sarah. The band has been enchanted so that it can change to match whatever you're wearing. I hardly think a black satin Celtic pattern would match riding pants and a blouse. You'll see as you try it on with other things."

"Amazing," she said numbly, still unable to take her eyes off the precious metal at her throat. The feeling of a woman's energy still hitting her more strongly than she would admit to the king.

"We should join our guests in the dining hall, if you're ready," he extended his arm to her.

After a moment, she fed her hand through his, resting her fingers just below his elbow and bringing up her other hand to meet them. Her fingers dared to roam a bit as she took notice of the gentle hills made by the firm muscle in his forearm. Jareth smiled. Making a magic pass with his free hand he covered her hands in black satin gloves that rose to her elbows. Sarah gasped and then returned his smile as she allowed him to lead her from the bed chamber.

At the top of the stairs, Sarah gathered her dress into her left hand, keeping her right hand wrapped around the kings arm and inhaled deeply before beginning to descend. 'Please don't let me fall,' she thought as she did her best to smile. As her foot left the last step for the safety of the stone floor, she let out the breath she'd been holding. Jareth guided her to the door of the dining hall which was opened by a male elf in a red jacket and black tights. Rather than entering himself, Jareth pulled Sarah from his arm and guided her through the doorway. Loudly, the elf in the red jacket announced, "Lady Sarah and his majesty, the king."

Everyone in attendance at the dinner table rose. Sarah smiled lightly, not sure exactly how she should behave. Jareth whispered into some of her fallen tendrils, "Take the seat to the left of the head." When she moved for the chair, the king came up behind her and pulled it away from the table. Once Sarah was seated, the king took his spot at the head of the table. The guests took their seats once Jareth indicated they may do so with a subtle gesture of his right hand. Hoggle helped Drema into her seat. Sarah, seated at Hoggle's right, helped him to position himself once his wife was settled.

Jareth looked around the table, pleased that everyone he had invited had taken time to attend. There was Deverell to his right and beside him, Dalkeil. Then Turgomon, the king's public advisor and last along the right side of the long rectangular table, Atofina. Atofina was a fey known about the kingdom for training courtesans, but what few people remembered was that before the Underground had a king, it was she who was chosen to teach Gwendolyn how to carry herself like royalty. The woman was legendary, among the members of the high court who served the Triumvirate before they were able to fully organize themselves. Over the years she'd learned there was more to be gained from the ladies of the night, rather than the ladies of the court, which had disbanded. Most refused to believe Atofina was truly the age she was, making it seem as if she'd only ever been a madam, but Jareth knew more, knew what his family had always told him. Facing Atofina was Arulan, to her right Drema who was seated next to her husband. On Hoggle's other side, Sarah was placed at the left hand of the king.

"I welcome you all," Jareth announced. "Tonight we gather round this table to welcome the Lady Sarah," he gestured towards her. "There is much business we have to discuss, but before we talk business, I believe that my kitchen has prepared a satisfying meal that my wait staff is only too anxious to serve."

Five elves served the table, two on either side and one whose duties applied specifically to the king. Sarah recognized the elf who brought her plates as one of the females from the previous day when she had first arrived. Though she tried to not to, her eye wondered casually toward Arulan's seat, curious as to why she would be invited to sit at the king's table when everyone else asked to attend was of some greater significance than servant. Course after course arrived beginning with a wonderful spinach quiche, a salad made from a mixture of wild greens and red cabbage, and a rich onion soup. Drema and Hoggle were practically full by the time the main course arrived. They shared the steamed squash and carrots, the potatoes au gratin and the pork medallions.

When the dishes were cleared and the glasses refilled, Jareth cleared his throat and rose his glass. Once more he thanked his guests for their attendance at the meal, but before he could complete his sentiment, Hoggle jumped up onto the seat of his chair and interrupted, "What's it you want from us?"

Drema chastised her overzealous husband, "Sit down Hoggle. You're making a fool of yourself."

Jareth lowered his glass, "No good woman. Hoggle speaks the truth. It would be a lie for me to say I have brought you all together for no other reason than to meet the mortal."

"Told ya," Hoggle snorted indignantly.

"As I said," the king raised an eyebrow at the dwarf, "there is another guest in this castle." He motioned toward the fey at his right, "May I introduce Deverell. He has been sent by the Cleric to assist me in running this kingdom while Sarah and I set about restoring these lands." Deverell stood and gave a slight bow. "Hoggle, I expect that you will give him whatever guidance he requires, what with you being an old pro at maintaining order here."

For a moment Hoggle sized him up, attempting to figure out if he was sincere. He had called him by the proper name, twice now. "Aye yer majesty," he conceded.

"And Dalkeil, the boy knows weaponry as a sportsman. I ask you to train him by means of the sword, the dagger and the hand."

"Aye your majesty," he replied with a tip of his head.

"What is it you expect me to do for the boy?" Atofina asked, a hint of a giggle in her voice.

"The boy does not need the type of services you can provide," the king replied knowingly. "The lady is in need of your assistance."

"Jareth, that's new, even for you."

"Sarah must be trained in the ways of behaving as a lady behaves. It is crucial that she draw as little attention to herself as possible."

Atofina laughed madly, "It's been quite awhile since I've done that kind of training."

"I trust it will return to you once you begin."

"Perhaps," she smiled as she finished the wine in her goblet.

"And I, your majesty," Turgomon offered, "am I to see to it that the lady is kept from the spotlight?"

"Precisely. It will be impossible to keep the girl a secret, why with her being forced to visit the sectors, but we should make every effort to minimize her exposure. Rumors will spread quickly and I expect that you will silence them as discreetly as possible."

"Do you truly think that best?" Deverell asked.

Jareth shot him a harsh look, "Do you have some better suggestion?"

"Well your grace, I would think the less you tried to hide the mortal, the less there would be to rumor about."

"The boy has a point," Turgomon acknowledged. "Were we to attempt to deny all that is rumored of the legend we only open the door to guilt by admission. Where as if we were to make some spectacle of her, some public announcement of her arrival, what question will be left for them to ask?"

"What sort of spectacle have you in mind?" the king inquired, not at all pleased at having been overruled by his stewards.

"A masquerade, Jareth. Yours were always the most fun," Atofina suggested from the furthest length of the table.

Without trying to hide his displeasure the king sat and listened to the others as they too agreed a ball would be the most splendid way of introducing Sarah to the Underground. Turgomon pointed out that it would be the kind of social event that everyone would be able to partake in. Deverell made obvious that the occasion would be a festive one, putting the people in a pleasant mood to begin with while their costumes afforded them some amount of secrecy, thus avoiding their being intimidated by a mortal. None of their offerings moved him to agree until he felt Sarah's hand upon his arm, her voice low and sweet, "A ball, like the one we had last time?"

"Similar," he admitted.

"I would very much like to go to a ball."

"If that is what you wish milady, then it shall be a ball which introduces you to this kingdom." She nodded, a smile gracing her ruby lips. "A ball it shall be." Jareth stood, "Arulan I expect that you will assist Turgomon in whatever he needs to arrange for the festivity."

Arulan nodded. "When do you wish the ball to take place your majesty?"

He looked to Turgomon for an answer, "Week's end is always a good time for festivity."

"Week's end it shall be. Very well, the rest of you will begin training tonight." They stood to go, all of them but Sarah. "After," Jareth added, "you have been served desert. There's a divine crème Brulee and a well aged brandy for washing it down. Please sit."

"Good, good. Balestra and lunge," Dalkeil instructed. Deverell stood motionless. "A fleche then?" When his student continued refusing to move, he added, "Have they never taught you the attacks boy?"

"No, as his majesty said, I learned the sword in sport."

"Even in sport a score gets kept, does it not?"

"They prize us on form and talent."

"I'll give you this much," the weapon's master told him, "your experience with form and method do not go unnoticed, but your fear of the attack is bound to leave you run through in the field. If you wish to serve the king, you must learn to fight." Dalkeil drew back on his heal and lunged at Deverell. Surprisingly, the pupil could block with relative efficiency. A series of quick parries and the more experienced swordsman managed to fake an attack sending the younger fey's sword sailing through the air. Dalkeil touched the covered end of his sword to Deverell's whites. "Defense will only take you so far."

"So I see," he coughed out as he stepped back, breaking the connection of Dalkeil's sword to his chest. He stepped toward his weapon, grabbing it by the handle, Deverell assumed a ready stance, "Teach me to do that."

"Derobement?"

"If that means you will show me how to disarm my opponent, then yes."

"'Tis a skill which most do not learn until much later in their training."

"I have little time to learn to defend this kingdom, we will work until sunrise if that is what it takes."

Dalkeil eyed his student, "Ambitious aren't you? I shall add that to the list of credits I might give you."

"Soon you shall add aggression as well."

"I'm not trying to offend you. It's just, well, I don't see the need for me to go through with all this. I did perfectly fine at dinner," Sarah objected as she and Atofina occupied the castle's sitting room.

"In fact, you did not do entirely poorly at dinner," she replied, "but there were some more obvious errors." She'd sprawled herself out along the chaise, seeming very comfortable in the castle.

Irritated by both her statement and her demeanor, Sarah stiffened her back and repeated, "Errors?"

Atofina shook her head, "Would you care for me to elaborate?"

"Yes, please." The reply was sickeningly sweet.

"To begin, you assisted the dwarf. You are a lady in the king's home. You will be served, waited on and catered to. You should never serve, wait on or cater to anyone else," with a wicked grin she added, "except the king."

"The dwarf, as you call him, is my friend."

"I don't care if he's your father." For a moment she watched Sarah's mouth hanging open. "Second, you called the king by his first name."

"As do you."

"I have known his majesty since he was a child, you on the other hand have not. You should, in public anyway, refer to him only as your highness, your majesty or your king."

"What about your grace?" Sarah asked. She'd heard many of the servants call Jareth, your grace.

"A term used by persons in service to the king. Tell me Sarah," Atofina leaned in on the mortal, eyeing her, "Are you in service to the king?" Feeling the blush run into her cheeks, she quickly answered no and asked that her advisor go on with the lesson. "Where was I? Oh yes, you've got to move more like a woman."

"Excuse me?" Sarah asked, her eyes wide.

"You should glide, every move you make should be fluid." Atofina stood and stepped around a bit. She held her head high as she did so, tilted back a hair. Her palms were parallel to the ground, all but her forefinger bent. "From first step to last," she paused at the other end of the chaise, her feet perpendicular, making a sweeping motion with her hands, "you should hold the attention of all those in attendance."

There was no sense in arguing. Atofina had held Sarah's attention the entire time she paraded around. The mortal had never seen anyone seem so effortless and thought that surely it would have been an attribute of the fey. "Human woman don't behave this way."

"And if it were I who was Aboveground that fact might concern me; however, it is you who is here, with a masquerade being held in your honor at week's end. I think you would be less disagreeable."

"Fine. I get it. Don't do anything for anyone unless it's Jar…I mean, his majesty who asks. Use his majesty for calling the king in public and step lightly."

"Walk for me."

"What?"

"You heard me. Walk from here to the mantle and back for me, lightly as you say."

Begrudgingly Sarah obliged. She did her best to mimic Atofina's steps, but her shoes still sounded loud off the stone floor attempting to hold her palms as the fey had done was throwing her off balance causing her to wobble side to side. "Absurd."

The fey suppressed a giggle. "We've a lot of work to do. For tonight practice walking on the balls of your feet, don't touch your heels down. If you practice in bare feet, it'll be a cinch in shoes."

"What do you mean for tonight?"

"His majesty has asked that I work with you each evening in preparation for the ball."

"What's the big deal?" Sarah asked her without attempting to hide her irritation.

"The big deal," Atofina explained as she gathered her wrap, "is that whatever excursion you were on the last time you attended an Underground masquerade was nothing. A dream you took part in. Come week's end, you'll be the center of attention, before a number of guests who have all heard about the legendary mortal who once defeated the king. You'll be set apart from every mythical in attendance. Put before the eyes of the Representatives and the Triumvirate where your actions and reactions," the fey stressed the latter in a way Sarah couldn't help but to take notice of, "will be judged. We can't have you making an ass of yourself now, can we?" She gave a kiss to the air on either side of Sarah's cheeks and saw herself to the door.

Alone in the sitting room, Sarah fumed over how Atofina had behaved, telling her she was masculine, insisting she not give a helping hand to her friends, but perhaps most infuriating, the way she told Sarah to address Jareth. If only she would have had the courage to tell the pretentious fey just how well acquainted she and the king were. For a moment she allowed herself to feel smug, but then she thought, 'What if Atofina could make the same claim Sarah wished she had?' Ignoring the golden braid which hung in the doorway of the sitting room, Sarah decided to make her own way back to her room.

She begun walking down the hall towards the dining room to the main staircase when she heard the most enchanting music coming from one of the rooms off to the right. Sarah peaked in the first door to find a powder room. The second door she knew was Jareth's office. From behind the third door she could clearly hear the music getting louder. It was definitely a piano, a mid-tempo piece with plenty of power notes. "Yooou. Yooou. Yooou." Someone sang from behind the door. Inching it open just enough to hear clearly, Sarah listened on, "No peachy prayers. No trendy rechauffe. I'm with you, so I can't go on." It was the king. She slid stealthily through the crack and gingerly shut the door behind her. Moonlight filled the room through a series of glass doors and splayed over a wooden inlay that took up three quarters of the floor. White walls and silver framed mirrors reflected a good portion of the light allowing it to bounce about the expansive area, but for the corner of shadow near the entrance where the mortal hid. "All my violence, raining tears upon the sheets. I'm bewildered that we're strangers when we meet."

Almost involuntarily her feet drove her towards him as she watched him play on. Eyes closed, he sang the words with great passion as gloved fingers danced over the keys, striking them with purpose as he played. "Did you write that?" she asked mistakenly thinking his solo was an ending to the piece.

"You might say." Jareth half chuckled as he patted the piano bench beside him. Sarah obediently sat. The king played on. "Blended sunrise and it's a dying world. Humming Rheingold, we scavenge up our clothes. All my violence raging tears upon the sheets. I'm resentful that we're strangers when we meet. Cold tired fingers, tapping out your memories, halfway sadness, dazzled by the new. Your embrace, it was all that I feared. That whirling room, we trade by vendue. Steely resolve is falling from me. My poor soul, all bruised passivity. All your regrets, ride rough-shod over me. I'm so glad that we're strangers when we met. I'm so thankful that we're strangers when we meet." He smiled at the mortal who sat beside him entranced by his words, hypnotized by the motion of his fingertips. "I'm in clover that we're strangers when we meet. Heal head over that we're strangers when we meet."

The last note of the melody rang in the space between the wooden floor and the high ceiling. It was a truly beautiful song that had touched Sarah deeply and though she hated to presume, it was not hard to draw a connection between its haunting lyrics and the experiences she and Jareth had shared. "You play magnificently," she finally managed to choke out.

"Thank you, I get it from my mother."

"I bet you do," this time Sarah gave him a small smile as she remembered thinking about the extraordinarily long fingers Leanan Sidhe had. They would have made good piano playing hands, just as Jareth's did.

"Do you like the room?"

For the second time she looked around the huge space. This time she noticed that the piano was not the only instrument inside. There were stringed instruments like she had never seen, flutes and drums, a harp. A band would have been needed to set every piece in there playing at once. "Do you play all of these?"

"Not all of them," Jareth admitted. "A few are Arulan's, but that one right over there," he used his right forefinger to point to a rosewood Gibson Hummingbird with a mahogany neck, "that is one I have yet to master."

On shaky legs Sarah approached the Gibson. From where she stood, she glanced back at Jareth, tears welling in her eyes. "How did you find one? They haven't made this model in years."

"Turn it over."

Sarah did not respond to his instructions immediately, rather, she allowed herself to hear the words and then took several second to realize what he was asking her to do. Why? On the back of the guitar her father had bought her, Robert Williams had them inscribe something to the effect of: To my little song bird, love from her daddy. Surely, the king hadn't managed to locate the actual guitar she'd been gifted when she was just ten. Yet, as she rotated the instrument in her hands on the back of its upper bout, just below and to the left of the neck, she read the words. Jareth was before her when she looked up from the body of the guitar, her tears falling freely over her cheeks. "How did you.."

"I went Aboveground and got it."

"But how? Wasn't Christian there?"

"By magic and no one saw me I assure you."

Her arm cradled the curve between the bouts, hugging the instrument to her, as the fingers of the other hand wrapped round the neck and settled on the a few fret markers. She let go of the body to strum at the strings. "Thank you," she smiled up at him through tears. "I can't tell you what this means to me."

"I think I can see," he told her as his gloves wiped away the wetness from her face. "Well go on then, impress me as you did before."

"Oh, I can't possibly think of anything to play."

"There must be something you're familiar enough with to play by heart."

"Maybe something," she thought a moment. "There is this silly song I used to sing to Toby when he would refuse to go to sleep."

"That'll do nicely." Jareth fell back on his heels, folding his arms across his chest waiting for her to begin.

The song had a long opening, but when her lips curled in a smile and she began to sing about the little one whose company they had once shared, the king knew it was worth the wait. "When your sister plays guitar you dance without a smile. Kid, you may not have great rhythm, but you sure got style. Just four years old and still it seems you've got it figured out, when sister sings and then you dance, the people clap and shout. 'Cause you're my dancing boy and it's so scary how you trust me. Just one look from you and I come pouring out like wine. Dancing boy, I'm sure by now that you must see, your dancing means much more to me than any dream of mine. Yes, I'm so proud when you are with me, that my heart lifts in my throat and when you start to strut your stuff, my eyes go all a float. When I have to leave you home, as sometimes it must be, I feel that with my leaving, I leave far too much of me. Yes, you're my dancing boy and it's so scary how you trust me. Just one look from you and I come pouring out like wine. You're my dancing boy, I'm sure by now that you must see, your dancing means much more to me than any dream of mine." Tears welled in her eyes as she played out a short bridge and then, choked up, she sang the last verse. Jareth clapped along. "You know the time will come my dancing boy, when your dancing days are done and when sister and her dancing boy will have dwindled down to one. You know the world will have taught you other steps to match the march of time, so you'll have to keep our dancing days, dancing in your mind. Yes, do your dancing boy and it's so scary how you trust me. Just one look from you and I come pouring out like wine. Do your dancing boy, I'm sure by now that you must see, your dancing means much more to me than any dream of mine."

Although Sarah's last note was horribly off key suffocated by a sob she forced back down her throat, it didn't keep the king from complimenting the talent he knew she had, in an effort to help take the focus away from the child he knew she missed and had since Toby had grown to leave behind his adolescence. "Simply amazing," Jareth said as his hands stilled.

"It's nothing much. Once you know the major, minor and dominant chords, it's pretty easy. Watch." Sarah modeled a few chords for Jareth.

"May I?" he asked hesitantly

Relinquishing the instrument, Sarah watched him as he positioned it. He seemed a bit unsteady. "Use your knee," she offered. When he looked at her puzzled she added, "Step your foot up on something and balance it over your knee, in the slope between the bouts.

Jareth used his magic to materialize a stool which he propped his foot upon, then positioning the guitar over his knee, as she had instructed, he began to play. The king took to music quickly, watching her and the few simple tips she'd provided and he was converting his old piano tunes in no time. Sarah was amazed at the way he played, as if were second nature to him. It was almost as captivating as watching him at the piano had been, only he occasionally grew awkward when he tried to play without balancing the guitar on his knee.

"I've been looking for a woman to save my life, not to beg or to borrow. A woman with the feeling of losing once or twice. Who knows how it could be tomorrow? I've been waiting for you and you've been coming to me, for such a long time now." He sang as he played.

Sarah closed her eyes and let his words wash over her. Just as she was ready to fling herself into his arms and proclaim that she would be the woman he had searched for, the music ended. "You eyes are falling closed. Are you tired?"

Now that he mentioned it, Sarah supposed it had been a long day and getting some rest wouldn't hurt. She nodded at his question. Jareth set the guitar in the stand which he had also retrieved from Aboveground and reached for the cord which would summon Arulan. Sarah's hand stopped his just shy of the golden braid. "I had my first lesson with Atofina today," she said.

Drawing back his hand, the king turned, cocking an eyebrow at the mortal whose interjection had come from out of the blue, "Yes."

"Well, part of it was all about how I'm supposed to be catered to and blah, blah, blah."

'Oh yes,' he thought, 'she had learn much from Atofina.'

"Anyway, a lady should be escorted, don't you think? And since I am supposed to be in training for the masquerade, where you will be presenting me, shouldn't we take this chance to practice?"

"By my escorting you to our chambers," he purred.

The way he said 'our chambers' made Sarah's skin tingle. "Just a thought."

The king bent his arm and with a subtle bow, begged her to join him. "Milady," he said, his eyes intensely focused on hers. When she took his arm the tingling sensation intensified and seemed to run through her whole body, deeper than just her skin. A second later they were in the bed chamber. Night clothes had been laid out for Sarah, who let free of the king's arm and changed before him, brazenly, without care for the fact that he would see, fully aware that he would watch. And Jareth did watch, from behind her, at the foot of the bed. He watched the candle light igniting her silhouettesilhette as she pulled the dress from her shoulders, holding it before her and stepping out. Before she covered her nearly perfect form in the silk chemise, Sarah removed the pins from her hair, one at a time, setting them on the beside table. When all her locks were free, she shook the ebony waves until they hung loosely down her back. Finally she slid the pale yellow gown over her head and allowed it to cover her naked body. By the time she turned around, Jareth was in his usual black silken night clothes.

Sarah crawled into bed tentatively, as if a great courage had suddenly drained from her body. The king joined her, prepared to take the couch once more, if she were to object to his sleeping at her side. Sarah did not object. He peeled back the duvet and slid beneath the weighty fabric, happy to be in a bed for the first night in a week, content to be in the company of his mortal. "Goodnight milady," he said silkily.

"Goodnight my king," she replied.

In the last of the light, just before Jareth's sweeping hand extinguished the sconces, she saw him smile a crooked smile, "Your king?"

"It is the way Atofina said I should call you."

"I rather think I have done a wise thing in arranging for you to meet with that woman," Jareth said before rolling onto his side where his partial nocturnal eyes could see the mortal even in the dark.

"You know, it's not the most uncommon thing Aboveground for friends to kiss," she said after the silence had grown long.

"Well," the king replied, propping up on one elbow, "if you're going to be generous enough to learn my customs, I suppose I should be generous enough to indulge you in yours." He bowed his head, gently grazing her lips with his, pulling away and recapturing them a series of times until she felt herself sufficiently frustrated by his games.

Sarah's small hands filled with his hair as she captured the back of his neck, holding him still and giving him a proper goodnight kiss. "Goodnight."

'Yes, it is,' he thought as he settled next to her.


	23. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER TWENTY TWO - PRACTICE TO MAKE PERFECT**

Days at the castle seemed to pass in rapid succession. There was always something to learn, something new to see, something that was changing. Sarah had come to spend much of her time out in the gardens, when Atofina wasn't drilling her on her social graces. A few times before she turned in Sarah stopped by the music room to listen for Jareth's singing. Some nights she just listened, other nights she joined him at the piano to sing with him or just to watch him play. It became apparent to her that music was very important to the Underground, as the flowers in the Labyrinth had been, as the underlying meanings of almost everything had been, it was certainly very abundant. She continued giving him lessons on the guitar, although she thought he'd already picked up more than enough to no longer require her tutelage.

Thursday night when she came to the music room door, she was met by silence. No strum of the guitar to remind her that she had been able to teach the Goblin King something, a fact which continued to amaze her. No tapping at the keys of the grand piano which reflected the moonlight through the French doors. No lost sound of lutes or liars or the whistle of any number of flutes. Sarah, dismal at the prospect of going to sleep with no music still playing in her head, began to climb the grand staircase to the chamber of the king, where she had slept for the last four nights, hoping she would find him there. The soft leather bottoms of the slippers she wore plodded against the marble staircase, echoing in the stillness of her solitude, speaking volumes with no one around to hear or answer. There was a landing sixteen stairs up, where she stopped. The railing bowed out along the oblong edge of landing. Her hands slid along the smooth surface while she stopped to realize just how magnificent this castle was, how magnificent the Underground was. Backside resting against the banister, she focused on a potted orchid which placed on a table in the center of the landing. It was as exquisite as its surroundings. Stepping forward she let a hand reach out to the velvet petals. Lightly she stroked along a pink streak which accented one of the ivory petals.

"Like fine linens don't you think?" Jareth said huskily in her ear.

Sarah gasped as she jerked to face him. No matter how often he employed this tactic to approach her, it always caught her off guard. Her heart pulsed at the surprise. "I was just looking for you."

"You've found me."

"I'd say it was you who has found me."

"So it was. How was this evening's lesson with Atofina?"

Sarah sighed, "I suppose it went well. I can't help thinking that there's more to her than you're letting on." She looked him in the eye, noticed the way his lips itched to smile even when he knew he shouldn't. "Then again, it shouldn't surprise me. Nothing here should surprise me. There's a deeper meaning to everything that goes on Underground."

This time Jareth let the smile curl his lips with no objection, "I think I may have something left that could surprise you."

Smiling up at him, she wondered what that might be. When his elbow jutted out in the familiar angle with which she had grown accustomed to being led around the castle, she replied, "By all means."

"Close your eyes," he whispered huskily, his lips grazing her ear.

As Atofina had taught the mortal, she quickly obeyed the king. When once again she had been given permission to open her eyes they stood just inside the doorway of a bed chamber. There was a king sized oak bed with a muslin canopy and curtains. Sheets as crisp as freshly pressed cotton shirts covered a firm mattress, topped off with a floral duvet thick with down. It was seeing her wardrobe there that finally told Sarah the room was to be hers. A matching vanity table had been made and placed along side the wardrobe. A bureau added and a full length, gold trimmed mirror mounted to the wall. There was a sitting area, sunken into her room. It lacked the majesty of a fireplace, but that didn't matter much. The furniture was upholstered with a plaid pattern which took in the beige of the muslin, the green from the duvet and the mauve from the drapes which hung over both large windows on the far wall to either side of the bed. An oak table separated the couch from the chair. A matching end table sat between the chair and a rocker. It was a wooden rocker, the seat cushion had been covered in the plaid fabric and the slatted back had a cushion tied over it as well.

"You didn't need to do all this," Sarah said, still in shock at what her eyes had seen, "not when I'm only going to be here another five weeks." Her mind continued, 'Not when I'd be just as happy to spend those nights with you, in your bed.'

"Mason did most of it," Jareth told her fighting hard to hold back the disappoint he felt that she had not been more thrilled with the room. "I hope you find it comfortable and adequate enough for your time here."

"It's not that I don't appreciate the effort. In fact, it's a beautiful room and I'm sure it will be more than adequate for my stay, provided that door leads to a bath even half as luxurious as yours." In an effort to show her appreciation for all the king had done for her, Sarah scampered toward the door in question.

"Actually," Jareth began when Sarah opened the door, "that's the..."

"Jareth?" She looked at him, confusion bending her brow.

"I was going to tell you. I didn't want you to feel isolated and you've been clear about how you feel having servants, so..."

"So, you thought you'd give me an adjoining door to your chambers." Returning to his side, a smile wide across her face, she asked playfully, "Why do I not think your motives are entirely forthright?"

His lips fell upon her forehead, "If my motives were anything less than forthright, I'd have told Mason to brick up that door," he pointed to the door through which one entered the chamber from the hall, "after he built that one."

In that moment, Sarah found herself suddenly reminded that she and Jareth had not shared each other's more intimate company since they were journeying home from the mountains. In fact, aside from what had become a traditional kiss goodnight there hadn't been much in the way of physical relationship between them at all. "But I do have a bath, right?" she asked in an effort to distract herself from the realization.

"Of course," the king moved to a second door and swung it open. Inside everything had been finished in sterile white tile that looked as if it had been scrubbed thoroughly. Gold fixtures adorned the white porcelain. A blue curtain hid the wash sink and the water closet. It was no where near as seductive as the bath in the king's chamber, but Sarah supposed it shouldn't have been, after all she was just a guest in the castle.

"What more could a girl ask for?"

"This girl, as you know, may ask for anything she likes and it shall fall from the heavens to land at her feet." He looked at her seriously, "Is there something you need which I have not provided?"

"No, not at all," she tried to convey her appreciation without letting too much of the disappointment seep through.

"Well, I'm sure your anxious to test out those linens. I had no idea it had gotten so late, so quickly. I will leave you to your rest."

Even though Sarah wasn't the least bit sleepy, she nodded. Her hand fell gently upon his forearm, "Thank you." The words were low and mild as she spoke them while subliminally she begged him to stay.

Jareth took her hand into his, gloved fingers caressing her bare skin, roaming up the length of her arm, across her shoulder, the side of her neck and finally coming to rest with her jaw settled in her palm. Sarah nestled into his touch. "Goodnight Sarah," he breathed out in a near sigh.

"Goodnight Jareth," her eyes were focused on his mouth.

The king's thumb trailed over her lip, for a second, she just allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of the leather on her mouth, before she pursed her lips and kissed at him. He tried to avoid her affection, keeping his thumb dancing from side to side, but she sought the fleeing appendage until Jareth saw no choice, but to replace it with his mouth. Greedily, he kissed her as she matched his fervor. This was not the kind of kiss which they had settled into sharing when they stayed in the same bed together. Perhaps they'd convinced themselves to be wary when they were so accessible to one another, but now, now that he knew he must walk through the adjoining door and sleep in his huge bed alone with her so close, so warm.

"I really must go," he said painfully as he pressed his forehead against hers.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her lips finding his chin, working their way down his throat and over the exposed patch of his chest displayed by the painter's shirts he continuously wore.

"Certain," he proclaimed weakly as he tried to push her away. Sarah slid down the length of his body, practically kneeling before the king, her hands working at his waist band. Jareth stilled her frantic fingers, "What has Atofina been teaching you?"

"Why would you ask me such a question?"

"Just a question," his hands lifted her back to standing, her fingers clenched in his gloves. He kissed the back of each hand before giving her a polite bow and taking his leave.

Sarah fell back on the bed the king had built for her, thankful that it was soft.

Deverell had spent the week training from sun up until sundown, breaking only for meals. Dalkeil agreed to his request for constant discipline, but only after warning him that there was such an idea as too much of a good thing. The young fey wouldn't hear of it. He had years of expertise to acquire and in his limited scope, only one way of achieving the goal. What little time he slept was on stacks of hay in the stables. Gribbin offered his bed, but Deverell politely refused. In truth, he was quite content to sleep so near the horses. While the smell wasn't much, he'd grown accustomed to their whinnying as he drifted to dream. He missed his home and his family; however, the Cleric had chosen him for this and he was proud. That alone would see his mission through until the end. Seeing what transpired in the Underground made him more greatly appreciate the peaceful existence of Burggraaf.

Each night when his heavy head fell down, it was a much earned sleep which eventually overtook him. Dalkeil worked him hard, precisely as the king would have wanted it. Whole days were spent working on one or two moves. The fey was forced to repeat attacks until they became such second nature he could perform them with his eyes closed, which was often asked of him. Deverell told himself time and time again the reward of serving the king would be worth the hard work of training to do so. Among his town's people he would be looked upon as a hero. Not to mention the Cleric would favor him for doing such a fine job with his assignment.

Friday evening, after dinner, Jareth went into the training room so he might sit in on one of the sessions between his combat master and Deverell. The king agreed the youth had good form, his timing and aggression had improved, as Dalkeil said they had. Overall he was pleased, but he could tell that Deverell was still pulling back on the attack. He snapped his fingers and donned himself in fencing whites to have a go at the younger fey. It had been quite some time since he had practiced. When Jareth took the floor both men broke from the stalemate they were in and bowed to his majesty.

"Your highness, you come dressed and ready?" Dalkeil was surprised. He and the king had gone a few rounds in sport before, but he did not think the king would dare challenge the inexperienced Deverell. Why, with so much to prove, Dalkeil wondered if it was wise for Jareth to subject himself to the boy's over-zealousness.

"You have no doubt groomed me a worthy opponent."

"I have tried my best," Dalkeil admitted with a heavy sigh, still disappointed that his student pulled his punches.

"Well then, En Garde," Jareth called as he assumed position.

Deverell closed his face mask and matched the king's stance. His heart was hesitant to put forth his best performance for fear that he would some how injure Jareth. Shortly into the battle, it became obvious he had nothing to worry about. Though the king's hand had long been void a proper sword, his skill returned as quickly as one recalls their own name. As Jareth countered and retaliated with an attack or two of his own, Deverell pulled out all the stops. Choreographing a series of parries which had them waltzing to and fro across the room. Deverell was possessed with a desire to impress the king. Finally, the young fey was able to pin Jareth against the wall, his sword at the king's throat.

Breathing heavily, he asked the king, "Do you find me capable of protecting your kingdom and your mortal now your highness?"

Jareth reached down to his side with the hand that did not hold his sword. With an almost unbelievable silence he rose his boot to meet his hand. From it he drew a dagger, the handle of which he jammed into Deverell's ribs sending him reeling back, grabbing at his side. Closing in on the boy, Jareth warned him, "To have you serve my kingdom would have been a true joy but for the fact that while you wasted your best energy dancing for me, you were too tired and too vain to make the kill. When you paused to gloat," Jareth spun the dagger in his hand until its serpentine silver blade rose from his grip, "this would have stolen the air from your lungs. I hate to think of the result were I to have had an iron weapon at my availability." Replacing the dagger in his boot, he was barely winded by the entire exchange. Jareth continued to scowl down at the boy who had yet to find himself standing fully straight. He turned to Dalkeil, "Haven't you taught this boy anything?"

"It's taken me this long to get him to attack at length. I thought he should know a sword before we tested his skills with a close range weapon like that," the combat master defended his decision pointing at the blade in Jareth's boot.

"That may be. I never expected he would behave so foolishly."

"I'm still in the room," Deverell announced when it seemed they'd forgotten.

The king turned on him in a swift movement, "And rather lucky for that I'd say." Deverell did not speak. "You have much left to learn, I suggest you let your trainer have a bit more say in your lessons. After all, he is the experienced one here."

"Yes, your grace"

Dalkeil walked with Jareth to the door where he asked the king, "Don't you think you were a bit rough on him?"

"Rough on him? By showing him that even a fey whose sword might feel like an extension of his own arm can be killed by his own foolishness? No, I don't particularly think that I was rough on him. In fact, I think I just gave him a lesson in staying alive, one he is not likely to soon forget. Now you try." With that Jareth stormed out of the training room.

Atofina and Sarah both jumped when they heard the door slam. The sitting room where they had been having their lessons was on the same side of the castle as the training room, although not on the same floor. "My, my, my. It seems as if his highness is a bit frustrated today. You wouldn't know anything about that now, would you?"

The mortal didn't much care for the way the fey asked the question, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"No sense in getting defensive. I was just making light."

"Making light?"

"Mortals," Atofina sighed. "Making light? Having a joke? Being facetious?"

Sarah looked at her with curiosity, "You make light of too much, if you ask me. For someone whose supposed to be teaching me to be a lady, you certainly make more than the occasional suggestive comment."

"I assure you, I am qualified to teach you, if that's what your worried about. It was I who taught the first queen of the Underground how to hold her head and wave her hand."

"It's not your qualifications I question, rather, I doubt that this is the only talent you possess."

Atofina's eyes grew wide, "I see the king has found himself a woman with a brain." She paced around Sarah, eyeing her up. After making her way tot he door and shutting it securely, she returned to the chaise and took a seat. "If you want the whole story, I suggest you sit down as well." Sarah wondered why the dramatics, but did as she instructed. "Centuries ago, before the Triumvirate were appointed to rule the realm, there was a high court. When fey needed to appear before the high court or attend the functions of the high court, it was me they called for the instruction. The court managed to keep a certain amount of order, but as the elders grew weary, younger and younger fey sat on the court and corrupted it. When the raids began, the elders who remained in the court appointed the Triumvirate. The three most honorable and respected fey in the kingdom, for whom the court would work to maintain order. When the raids were over, many of the fey who comprised the court had been killed. Those that had survived worked with the Triumvirate to return order to the kingdoms, in doing so they had eliminated their own purpose. The Triumvirate easily oversaw the realm and the court was disbanded. Not wishing to pollute the system with some of the same deviance which soiled the court, the Triumvirate kept very much to themselves. They moved into the mountains. They threw no parties. Criminals were brought to them for punishment and where their presence was needed, it had to be requested. Even then they only appeared for about one in every three requests. When they gave the Underground its first king, Oberon chose a commoner for his bride."

"The first queen?" Sarah asked.

"Queen Gwendolyn," Atofina replied and then continued. "Kept me in business, for a time, I even lived in this castle. In the room where Arulan stays now." Despite her trying to hide the fact, Sarah was a bit jealous at this admission. "The commoners provided a fair clientele for me as well. They all believed that if Gwendolyn, an orphaned servant to a respected family could become queen, then any of them could become queen. They wanted to be prepared. Then it was Corwyn, who had little interest in taking a bride until he mastered being king. Before he had the chance to do either, he was murdered. Darien took over the throne, despite the threat of not knowing who it was attacking the throne. He was quite the Casanova, I admit. The Triumvirate buckled down on him, furious because his behavior was precisely the kind of thing which caused the high court to be disbanded. In no uncertain terms they insisted he marry if he wished to retain the throne. Darien was no fool. He chose a well groomed woman from a known and respected family. My assistance was no longer required, at least not by Queen Arianna." Though it hadn't been said directly, Sarah took that to mean that Darien's lecherous ways were not wholly unfamiliar to her trainer. "When Arianna gave birth to Leanan Sidhe, she gave strict orders to the female help. None of them were to go near her. She alone would see to the children's needs. Now the Underground had its first natural born queen. She would be bread to someday take a proper husband and so it seemed my services were no longer required."

"But you must have done something between then and now," the mortal noted.

"Indeed," Atofina agreed. "I met a fey who had once held seat in the high court. He'd begun work as a master to several courtesan. The idea had occurred to him that a woman, especially with the skills I acquired could teach dignity and grace, would be highly prized. And so, I began to train the courtesan. The longer I worked with these ladies, the more I realized that I could teach them more than decorum. Woman that I worked with were the most sought after. In the circles courtesans kept I had made quite a name for myself. By then, Jareth had been born and taken the throne. It was naturally assumed that I would reclaim my position at the castle when Jareth finally decided to take a bride. Only he has yet to do that, unless there's something you need to tell me?"

Sarah ignored her insinuation. "So you arrange for his woman?"

Atofina laughed heartily. "The king has no need for me to arrange for his company. My trips to the castle have been social. The master who recruited me, wished to recruit Jareth as well. Not to work the circles, but to, for lack of a better word, stud the inexperienced woman. After all, the king is Darien's grandson and Darien's prowess was no taboo. Leanan Sidhe was a passionate woman. Jareth had inherited both the ability and the passion."

Suddenly, Sarah felt quite warm, "You speak from experience."

"Actually," she propped up on one elbow, bring her knees up more tightly to her stomach and faced the mortal, "I do not. As you might already suspect, I was one of the naive woman whom Darien was able to capture in his bed. Something in me never felt right about having his grandson too. Besides, I think Jareth preferred to remember the way I was before I met the master, as the fey who will train his bride." Atofina studied Sarah's face intently waiting for her eyes to give something away. "It could be you if you play your cards right."

"I'm not here to marry the king. I'm here to rebuild the Labyrinth and then I'll be going home. You're here to train me for the ball and then your services will no longer be required, not by me anyway." She looked away briefly and asked as she met the fey's eyes once again, "Wouldn't Jareth do better to marry a royal?"

"How little you know of the king. It is not his way to find what is royal attractive as well. He is very much like his mother that way. He craves what is simple, what is natural and free. Tell me that you haven't felt it?"

"Excuse me?" Sarah said shocked.

"Jareth's aura is like a burning coal. His heat can be felt across a crowded room. When those eyes settle on you, every cell in your body is aware of it. Tell me that when he offers you his elbow and you slide your arm through his, tell me that you don't feel electricity."

"My feelings for Jareth are none of your concern."

"Your feelings for whom?" Atofina smiled knowingly. "Listen deary, you're absolutely right. It's none of my business, but let me at least give you this bit of advice. If he wants to share your company, do it. Enjoy him while you can, it comes highly recommended, so much as I've heard. Have yourself a bit of an affair, a summer fling."

Despite the fact that Sarah had been just doing just that, she asked anyway, "Don't you find that the least dishonest?" Perhaps a part of her sought absolution.

"A woman has just as much right to please herself as a man does, doesn't she?"

"But..."

"That's the first thing I teach the woman I work with. I could teach you other things, if you want, if you're worried that you lack the experience to satisfy someone like Jareth." Sarah remained silent. "Well if you want nothing more from me, we've finished our lessons. You've done remarkably well. I have no doubt you will excel at the ball."

"I...I," Sarah stumbled, "still need to learn how to...dance. I've never been much in the way of ballroom dancing."

Atofina smiled again. "Dancing," she said with a certain disbelief in her voice, "is a relatively normal activity among the fey. You'll find that Jareth is an excellent dancer. For the most part you need only let him lead you and you'll be fine."

"Perhaps you don't understand. I don't even know the basic steps."

Atofina stood and extended a hand to the mortal. She took the girl into her arms the way Jareth would have. "A simple box step will get you through just about any situation. Start with you left foot. Back. Left. Forward. Right. Back. Left. Forward. Right. Good. Now look in my eyes. Back. Left. Forward. Right." The fey woman was as relentless as Arulan. "You can move your left hand up the back of his neck if you like. There his long hair can hide your fingertips as they stroke his neck or the sensitive spot just behind his ear." Sarah's mouth was agape, but she was listening intently. "Or you can lie your palm flat against his chest, just below the shoulder and allow one finger or your thumb to graze his open chest. You're right thumb can also stroke his palm as you dance. I guarantee you the king will take notice."

"I'll keep that in mind," Sarah said raising an eyebrow as she excused herself from the fey's grip.

"I'm sure you will. If you discover that you need anything else from me, have his highness call."

"Thank you."

"Yes milady."

Atofina reached for the cord to summon Arulan, "I'll see you to the door," Sarah offered. When the fey had gone, Sarah retired to the music room.

It was far too early in the evening for her to expect to see Jareth there, but that was as she wanted it. Sarah sat at the piano, bathed in the moonlight, her fingers trolling over the keys. Absentmindedly she began to play, over and over again, the same series of notes until the rhythm was imbedded in her mind. Sarah stood on the wooden flooring. She gathered the hem of her peach skirt into her right hand and gave a slight curtsy, "Yes your highness. I'd be delighted." Her left arm hung around an imaginary shoulder while the right hand held an imaginary glove. "I'm having a simply wonderful evening." Between each comment, she paused, imagining an answer. "The music is lovely, though not as much as when I listen to you play." Her thumb stroked gently where Jareth's left hand would have been. She imagined Jareth's elegant eyebrow arching above his eye with the enlarged pupil. "Everyone's been perfectly polite. I'm very much looking forward to visiting the sectors...and to whatever time we'll be able to spend alone." Her fingers moved along the spot where his neck would have been. This time she saw his maddening grin, wide and devilish.

Having had his fill of Deverell, Jareth left the training room to shower and dress. Outside the music room he stood, concerned with the fact that his heightened fey hearing detected only one voice throughout the conversation. Silently he slid inside, hiding in the shadow where Sarah herself had hid the first time she snuck in while following the entrancing rhythm which beckoned her.

"I've always enjoyed our time alone. Haven't you?" There was a faint giggle, "Your majesty, really you shouldn't speak that way when we're in such close company with others." The whole time she spoke to the air, her feet continued in a simple box pattern which became more and more second nature.

The king transported himself to the piano bench and began to play. It made Sarah jump. "No, please," the king said as he continued to play, "go on. You were doing so well."

"Thank you."

Jareth used his magic to keep the keys pounding out an easy dance rhythm, then he stepped onto the floor with the mortal, sweeping her gracefully into his arms as he said, "Proper dancing requires a proper partner. May I?"

"I'd be delighted." This time she felt that burning aura, that focused stare, the electricity that Atofina told her about. It went beyond the fact that he danced as lightly as the air blew, it was more ethereal and emanating. As they spun around the floor, Sarah realized that she was no longer watching her feet when she danced. Instead she stared into the eyes of the Goblin King, almost to the point of not seeing the remainder of his facial features, only the two cerulean circles that seemed to see her in a way no one else had. In the onyx black center of his eyes she could see her face. For a moment she thought about the special effect created by mirrors where an image would seemingly go on forever when two mirrors faced each other. Seeing herself in his pupil was very much the same effect. It was almost lulling, until she noticed a different image in his left pupil, the enlarged eye. Her image, but not an image of the present, not an image of what Jareth was seeing. Sarah pulled away from him a bit.

Jareth let her free asking, "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," she lied. "I just thought I saw something."

"Outside?" Jareth ran to the doors and peered into the night. "What is it you thought you saw?"

"Nothing, really. Nothing. I just have tired eyes and they're playing tricks on me. I'm sure that's all it is." Her reaction was a foolish one, she knew, and her saying she had tired eyes even more foolish, for now the king would demand she rest.

"Are you feeling alright? Perhaps I should see you to bed."

"I'm fine. I'm not ready for bed. Let's finish our dance," she suggested, stepping up to him and holding her arms in position.

Unable, as always, to resist his mortal, Jareth swept her back into his arms. When Sarah glanced at his eyes again, the images were identical. 'Best I not stare,' she thought. Her attentions wandered over his face. The tiny lines in the corner of his eyes that bow-tied when he smiled. The thickness of his lips. The design of his eyebrows. And back to his mouth, always his mouth. Whether it were the words he spoke or the kisses he gave, Sarah couldn't help looking at it as an opening to his soul. She was fascinated by the way his lips moved, mesmerized by the way he spoke, hypnotized by the way he said her name. But when he sang, oh, when he sang it sent her away. The lyrics forming pictures in her head. The entire surface of her skin alive with knowing.

Before she knew what she was doing, she pulled herself toward him. Jareth's arm slid up her back agreeing to hold her more tightly. Her eyes closed lightly and her head tilted a hair to the left. Even blind, Sarah found his lips. She kissed him tentatively at first, the way one would try to kiss the wind. His response as weak. As they swayed her lips stayed pressed to his. Persistence paid off when the king finally released the hand he'd been holding during their dance, lowered her arm, which quickly found his side and used his newly freed hand to grasp her neck, bracing it as he fiercely returned her affection in a more suitable way. The kiss was hard and yet passionate. Jareth's tongue dove repeatedly into her mouth tasting her. Sarah let out a small moan, her hands grasping his shoulder and side more tightly. Jareth's right hand wrenched the fabric of her peach dress, twisting it as he held her to him. She felt her nipples tighten with excitement. It had been a nearly a week since they had been intimate. It occurred to her that Atofina was right about the king's abilities. They were very nearly addictive. Sarah needed him, if nothing else, she needed him.

When his mouth left hers she sighed. The Goblin King's lips skimmed her cheek, his tongue flicking over her jaw line as he neared her ear. A jagged tooth nipped at the lobe before his lips fell to either side of her artery applying gently pressure and light suction along her neck. She called his name, her fingers resting in his unruly hair holding him to her throat encouragingly.

A knock at the door, halted them both. They turned, still disheveled and flushed with passion. "Come in," Jareth called as he tried to smooth his hair.

Arulan curtsied when she entered, "Your grace," she said lowering her glance to smile at the state of fluster they were both obviously in. "Beg your pardon, but Turgomon has inquiries for tomorrow's festivities, items he says cannot wait."

Secretly, Jareth was thankful she had broken up their kiss before he did something he would regret. "I see." He turned to Sarah, giving a small bow, he said, "Milady, my duties take me away. Thank you for our dance." Jareth took her hand and kissed the back of it tenderly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Good night."

Sarah curtsied, "Good night your majesty."

"Arulan, see that Sarah is escorted to her bed chamber and make certain that she has everything she needs for the ball."

"Yes your grace," Arulan smiled.

"What was that going on between the two of you?" she asked in mock anger.

"Nothing. Atofina had given me dancing lessons. Jareth found me practicing alone and thought I should have a go at dancing with a partner. Nothing more." Sarah straightened her dress in an effort to make the statement seem more believable.

"You don't owe me any explanations," Arulan replied. "Now then, to bed with you. Have you tried on your dress for the ball? Does it need altered at all? What about your hair? How will you be wearing your hair?"

"I haven't tried on the dress and I don't know how I'll wear my hair. I'll have to see the dress first."

"Mercy me," Arulan fluttered. "We've got no time to waste. Let's get you upstairs in a hurry and get that gown on you."

Arulan wrestled the massive gown free from the wardrobe. Sarah drew a breath when she saw how beautiful it was. Three quarters of the sleeves were black, tapered to the middle of her forearm where they met with a sweeping silver bell. The neck line scooped low, the bodice, black, sewn with silver thread so that it appeared quilted. It tightened at the waist and rose in a half dozen scallops that caused the skirt to gather. From the gathers it hung to the floor, parted in the front to reveal several silver layers beneath the black satin. "You're kidding me," Sarah went running for the gown, holding it to her chest and looking at herself in the mirror.

"You like the gown?"

"Arulan, I love the gown!"

"Well, try it on. What are you waiting for?"

'A few mice to turn into horses and a pumpkin for a coach,' she thought as she undid the laces at the back of her dress and slid the magnificent gown over her head. The dress clung to her as if it had been made around her. The choker Jareth had given her earlier in the week switched from a delicate silver chain which had matched the peach dress into the embroidered band it had been when it was draped over the king's fingers to better suit her current attire. Sarah blinked twice at the transformation, still not used to the magic she was submersed in. "Up I think, my hair, I should wear it up," her hands held her raven locks over her ears.

Arulan went to the dressing table, opening one of the drawers. She withdrew two silver combs from inside, shut the drawer and returned to Sarah's side. "The king would be pleased indeed to see you wearing these."

In the elf's hands were the wiry silver combs Sarah had worn during their first masquerade when she was just fifteen. Looking at them, she easily recalled the feel of them on her head, weighty but not cumbersome. As her mind trailed on to other events from that day long in her past, Arulan worked the combs into her hair. She looked nearly the same as she had then, though less awkward and immature. "Shoes!" Arulan cried, hurrying back to the wardrobe. "Wait until you see the shoes."

Matching the silver in her dress, the shoes were open at the toe and slung back over the heal. When she slipped them on the heal was so high, Sarah felt as though she were on pointe, like the ballerina from the music box she'd had. The shoes, the dress, the combs, she felt like dancing. She felt like going back to the music room and twirling and twirling until she was too dizzy to stand.

"Everything's a perfect fit," Arulan said gleefully as she watched the mortal.

"It really is," Sarah smiled.

"Time you take that off, otherwise, I think you might try and sleep in it!" Her laugh was contagious and Sarah joined in.

Even with the dress safely tucked back into the wardrobe, the feeling of wanting to dance stayed with Sarah. Long after Arulan had been dismissed and she had changed into her bed clothes, Sarah still felt herself swaying to every step, Jareth's magical piano melody playing in her head.

"Your majesty, they must be allowed in the castle. They've been invited, it's far too late to change that now. After all they are the former king and queen." Turgomon went over the list of respondents with Jareth.

"Fine, they may attend, but Darien is to be watched."

"He is your grandfather," Turgomon reminded him.

"He is to be watched. Never should he be left alone with the mortal. In fact, but for the presentation, he should not be allowed contact with her at all."

"Yes, your grace."

"Why was she invited?" Jareth pointed to one of the names on the list, "Who made out the invitations?"

"My lord, I did."

"What were you thinking?"

"I took the list from the last festival thrown in the Underground, added and subtracted where there had been birth or death, made certain all the royals had been invited "

"I cannot watch the mortal all evening. It will be expected that I socialize. If she's tied to my coat tails all evening the entire Underground will grow suspicious." The Goblin King said this more to himself than to Turgomon who, despite not being the subject of the king's statement, agreed wholeheartedly. "Guards! There will be guards to watch her?"

"No your majesty. Again, guards would make her importance rather pronounced. I rather thought that between Deverell and myself, the young lady would be well looked after while you hosted the festivity."

Eyeing him closely, Jareth mulled the idea over in his head. Turgomon was not wholly untrustworthy, but Deverell seemed to show some interest in the mortal. No sense in arguing, he decided. After all, Jareth could easily handle Deverell. "Agreed."

"Then your highness, we have only one problem left to remedy."

"What might that be?"

"The menu, your grace."

"Turgomon, certainly you don't mean to entertain me by admitting that you could not plan a menu."

"Well, sire, it seems the goblins were unable to trap enough hens for each attendant. I was curious how you thought best to handle the situation."

Jareth sighed a heavy sigh, "Either we don't throw enough parties here or you are grossly overrated. Spit a pig, roast the hens and have chef make a roast. We'll dine buffet."

"Very good your majesty. Precisely what I would have suggested. Would you like to see the decorations before you retire?"

"No, I'm already on second thought I would like to see the hall if it's ready."

"Indeed. Follow me."

Turgomon led him to the ballroom which had been cleaned and polished until the floors shown like glass and the gold fixtures sparkled like stars. Jareth looked around. Though he had used the ballroom a time or two since Sarah's last visit, it was the recollection of her sweeping across the floor which returned to his mind when he came here. "I trust you are pleased."

"Indeed. Tell the staff they will be given this Sunday to do as they please," Jareth paused before adding, "provided everything goes well tomorrow night."

"They will be most pleased with your generosity, your grace." Turgomon bowed before taking his leave.

'If only everyone were so easily pleased,' the king thought.

The music room was quiet when Jareth walked by. Just to be sure, he opened the door and stepped inside. As he expected, no one was there. Disappointed the king sat at the piano bench. He drew a crystal from the air and focused on his mortal. She was tucked into bed, on her side with her eyes closed. The clock chimed eleven as Jareth made the ball vanish. Playing the same song he'd played when they danced, his gloved fingers tapped against the keys. In his minds eye, he saw them waltzing in the moonlight. It dawned on him then that he would always want her, even if he couldn't let himself love her, he wanted her. Rather than spend the night brooding, he climbed the stairs and retired to his chamber hoping that sleep would claim him with merciful speed.

In his silk pants, Jareth lie atop the duvet staring up at the ceiling. His eyes refused to close and sleep evaded him. Instead, frustration lie beside him and whispered in his ear. When he'd had all he could stand, the king left his bed and in bare feet crossed the cold stone floor to the door that separated him from his mortal. His hand fell against the door. Through the thin silk of his gloves the doorknob felt like ice, but it did nothing to dim the heat of his desire. Giving in to himself, he turned the knob and crossed the threshold into her room. For a moment he just watched her lying there in the dark, wondering what dreams were filling her head. It wasn't until Sarah rolled over to face the king that he realized she hadn't been asleep.

"What are you doing watching me sleep?" Sarah asked groggily.

"How'd you know I was here?"

"The mirror," she admitted. "Now I answered your question. You answer mine."

"I felt bad about running out on you in the music room earlier."

Sitting up against the headboard, "You had things to attend to, I understand."

Though he didn't let on, he could see her night gown peaking out from under the top of the duvet, red silk and black lace, elegant and sexy. "Even still, it was in bad manners and I apologize."

"Thank you, your highness."

Jareth approached her bed, "You know you aren't required to be so formal with me when we're alone."

Even from the other side of a king sized bed he had a way of unnerving her. "I'll keep that in mind." His pale chest shone in the dark.

"Speaking of things that have been on my mind," the king began.

"Yes."

"You made a suggestion the other day, I believe you called it 'something to think about'."

For a moment she wished she'd have been drunk enough to forget what it was she said, but in fact she remembered. "Something to the effect of being tied to your bed posts."

Jareth shook his head as he crawled across the bed toward her. When he settled against her side, her cool bare arm brushed over his naked back. "I must admit, I've missed you this last week."

"I've missed you as well," Sarah admitted.

Even in the shadows she could see his teeth when he smiled at her. The Goblin King's grin came closer and closer as he bent to claim her lips with his own. "Jareth?" Sarah called when he broke their kiss.

"Yes," he replied nipping at her throat.

"Please don't start something you don't intend to finish."

"And if I intend to bring you to a finish again, and again, and again, would I have your permission to continue?"

"By all means," Sarah said, made breathless by his proposition.

"Do you feel comfortable with me Jareth?"

"You know this may not be the most appropriate time to have this discussion." Sarah's eyes began to tear. "More so than with most. That's all I can offer you."

"From you it's enough." Her mouth captured his and she kissed him deeply out of understanding. Jareth broke their kiss for fear of losing more of himself to her. Her body pressed against him grew to be too much. Jareth donned a black silk robe before he hoisted her into his arms. Using his magic he pulled back the corner of the duvet and set her on the sheets. Before placing a goodnight kiss on his forehead, he tucked her in.

"Time for you to rest. Tomorrow will be a big day for you."

Sarah smiled and nodded at him. "Goodnight Jareth."

"Goodnight milady." Giving a gentle bow, he returned through the door to his quarters.

Back in his bed, Jareth stared at the ceiling. He couldn't keep this up. Despite what he promised himself he had to let her know that this was more than sex to him. At least he wanted it to be more than sex.

"The king wasn't at breakfast this morning," Sarah pointed out to Arulan.

"His majesty needed to finalize some of the arrangements for tonight's festivities."

Sarah fussed with the mask the elf was applying, "He wasn't at lunch either."

Arulan swatted her hand, "Leave that dry. What happened to the chipper little miss I woke this morning?"

"She was sealed up in this mud masque," the mortal grouched.

"Yes, well, scoff if you will, but you're going to have skin like porcelain when we peel this off." Arulan sat on a stool at her feet massaging the mortal's soles. Sarah never had a pedicure before, but the elf insisted that she have it done because of the open toed shoes that had been chosen for her. "Don't touch your face," Arulan called out for the twentieth time. "I'm going to have you soak your fingers so you can't mess with that masque, otherwise I'll have to tie your hands to the chair." Sarah smirked, a wicked smile causing all kinds of ripples and cracks in the dried clay. "Stop smiling, you'll give yourself wrinkles. Here, what are you smiling like that over anyway?"

"Nothing Arulan. Wasn't it you who told me I shouldn't move about too much in this. I'll just be quiet and let you finish my nails."

"Sure, now you want to listen to me." Arulan finished the pedicure with a thin coat of clear nail polish. When she finished Sarah's toes, she begun to manicure the mortal's hands. Polishing them in a magnificently elegant silver that would match her dress and shoes. While the nails dried Arulan removed the mud masque and applied a deep moisturizer.

Sarah sighed deeply as the elf finished the facial by lying a hot towel over her fresh face. When the towel was removed, the mortal noticed a table had been moved into her room. Arulan indicated that she should lie down. As the elves tiny hands dug into Sarah's back muscles with a strength and power she had not anticipated, she groaned. Not long afterwards she felt herself on the edge of sleep. As relaxation found its way into the small of her back she gave into the feeling and began to dream of what the ball would be like.

It was after three when she began to snore and Arulan shook her awake. "Enough of your lazing," she chided. We've got to get you ready. You make your entrance at five, dinner will be served at six..."

"But I thought the ball started at four?"

"It does, but it would be improper if you were to show before all of the guests."

"But this ball is being thrown in my honor." Sarah crossed her arms over her chest, "Why wouldn't I be there to greet everyone."

"No Sarah, this ball is thrown to introduce you to the kingdom." Arulan opened a silver case and began applying make up to Sarah's face, "You'll be presented as a servant of the king, someone who will rebuild our kingdom. It is you who must impress these people so that there's no rivalry or dissension."

"Servant to the king, but I thought..."

"You will greet the attendants and seek they're approval. Didn't Atofina go over this with you?"

"No."

Arulan sighed, "Guess it's up to me. Jareth will introduce you to each person by their title. Pay careful attention and use the titles he uses. Don't spend more than a couple of seconds with any one guest, not until after dinner. You may dance, but only if asked and never with anyone of whom the king objects."

"Arulan, you've got to be kidding. I'm thirty for Christ's sake. I'm supposed to go down there and act like it's some kind of little girl's coming out party and not breath if my father doesn't tell me it's appropriate."

"Oh dear. Oh dear." Arulan was busily trying to ready Sarah, but she kept squirming about in the chair going on about the ridiculousness of the king's rules. Finally, thoroughly fed up with her whining, Arulan took Sarah by the shoulders and steadied her, "I have no idea what a little girl's coming out party is, but this is how things are done here. Here is where you are now. You had your chance to wish yourself home and you chose to stay. You've forfeited your rights to quibble 'bout the way we do things. As for you being of age, you certainly don't act like it." At this Sarah's mouth hung open and an audible sound of displeasure escaped her. "Besides, even at your age, you'd still be considered a minor in the Underground. This ball is extremely important to the king. He's got to look as though he has some control over you, which is why Atofina was supposed to work with you, what little she was able to accomplish. If for one instant the royals get the impression the king doesn't have full control over you, it's him that's in danger, him and his kingdom. So in short, Sarah, I don't want to hear so much as a peep about what you want. You will make your entrance promptly at five. You will behave as a perfectly compliant servant, happy for the opportunity to serve under the king." Thoughts of the previous evening once again intruded making Sarah grin. "You will not speak of or act as though the king has given you any special privileges and when he acts the same, you'll not look surprised. Honestly," Arulan went back to work on Sarah's face, "I don't know why Jareth insists on learning you anything if his instructor won't review the basics."

The pair did not speak again until it was time for Sarah to stand and step into her dress. She'd been put in bloomers and not objected. After all, they were light, airy and really rather comfortable, but Sarah's lips quivered, eager to oppose when Arulan wrapped the stiffened ribs of a corset around her torso. The elf's stern eyes almost begged her to express her opposition to the garment, still hot with the anger of their previous disagreement. Sarah only pursed her lips together. Arulan grabbed the laces of t corset in her small hands and situated her knee in the girl's lower back, just above the tail bone. A mighty yank and Sarah felt the air rush from her lungs. "Is this really necessary?" she asked. Arulan only nodded. "In my world we wear these things above our clothing and not nearly so tightly." In reply she received a firm stare that reminded her this was not her world. More obediently she stepped into the dress. Arulan had begun regretting her spouting off at Sarah the way she had. Once the zipper was drawn over the length of her back and the dress took shape around her, the elf said, "As perfect as a doll, you are."

Fanning out her skirt, Sarah gave a tiny curtsey and said, "Thank you."

"I'm sor..."

"We still need to do something with my hair Arulan. Let's not waste time on words which don't need saying."

"Yes, milady," the elf smiled.

Watching in the mirror as her locks were hoisted into the combs, Sarah's mind started going back to the first time she'd worn them. The king had sorted his way through the crowds in an arousing game of cat and mouse, culminating in his pulling her gently, yet purposefully, into his arms. She caught her neck going limp and snapped her head straight again.

"Are you alright?" Arulan asked concerned.

"Fine," Sarah replied. Her manicured hand snapped to her throat and she cried out, "My necklace!"

"I've got it right here," Arulan reassured her as she picked up the black embroidered choker and fastened it around Sarah's neck. "It looks good on you."

It felt good. Sarah hadn't managed to make much sense out of it, not yet anyway, but that feminine energy she'd picked up the first time she held the charm seemed to mesh somehow with her own making the adornment feel as if it were always meant to grace her neck. She didn't let on to the elf, merely thanked her for the compliment and asked, "Now what?"

Looking at the clock in the corner showed it to be a quarter of five. 'Now nothing,' Arulan thought. "We wait," she said flatly. "Turgomon will come to take you to the ballroom entrance. Outside in the hall you'll remain perfectly still, poised just the way you are now." Sarah was standing perfectly straight, her hands folded before her, hung elegantly as the thumbs intertwined. The doors will have been enchanted to open promptly at five. The music will stop, a horn will blow. You'll wait until you hear them announce your name, then you sweep into the room. All eyes will be on you. His majesty will ascend the stairs," Arulan's face took on a dreamy look, "bow and offer you his elbow. You'll accept, after a curtsey, and he will lead you to a receiving line where you will be formally introduced to the guests." Sarah had begun to get a bit dreamy herself. "When the introductions are over. You'll be seated for dinner. As it was the other night, you'll be at the left hand of the king. After the meal, your first dance will be with Jareth. At first, it will be just the two of you on the dance floor." The expression on the mortal's face changed a bit with this piece of information, "Now, don't get nervous. It'll only be for a minute. A chance for everyone to approve of what they see between the two of you. A critical time for you to be your most aware of what Atofina has taught you. To indicate their approval, the others will begin to dance around you. When the song ends, you'll bow to one another and immediately leave each others' company. Turgomon and Deverell will keep your company for much of the rest of the evening. As I've said, given the king's approval, you may dance with the other men at the function, but always seek his approval first."

A gentle knocking at the door interrupted Arulan's to do and not to do list. Turgomon had come to take Sarah away. She met him at the door, took his elbow, inhaled deeply and stumbled as they started down the hall. The king's servant helped her to her feet and smiled into her scowling stare, "As long as you do that up here, no one cares."

Sarah returned his smile, adjusted her dress and continued on what felt like a very long walk to the ballroom.


	24. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER TWENTY THREE - IN A SEA OF FACELESS IMITATORS**

When they reached the door, Sarah could still hear music being played. "It'll be just about another thirty seconds or so. You look lovely milady." She didn't feel lovely. The corset itched and her stomach was queasy. "Don't be nervous, I shall meet you again inside." Turgomon kissed the back of her hand before ducking into the shadows. Sarah adjusted her posture and breathed deeply when she heard the music stop. As promised the doors opened slowly and on their own. It was mere seconds of silence, but it may as well have been an hour. Her eyes scanned the crowd, never moving her head. Jareth looked solidly at her, his face expressionless. Off in the back of the room she saw Tiberon fixed on her as well, his face, far less stoic, smiling at Sarah in awe of her appearance. The blare of a horn caused all heads to snap in her direction.

"The Lady Sarah Williams of the Aboveground," a page announced.

Her own name sounded wrong, odd at best, being announced before 200 or so attendees. As Arulan promised, the king began to ascend the stairs. His frock coat was black with silver highlights that not only matched her dress, but sparkled making him look as though he had been dusted with ground diamonds. Beneath his coat a high collared shirt that had an ascot at the neck. Sarah dared not let her eyes dip below the waist for fear of what might distract her there. The silver highlights scattered about his hair made it shine almost a platinum blonde. Jareth bowed to her and extended his elbow. Sarah curtsied in return and fed her slender arm through his.

Before them, in the heart of the ballroom, a few dozen royals formed a receiving line. Among them were the members of the Triumvirate, Gandor and Tiberon. Others remained strangers to her. The Cleric was the first to greet Sarah. She tentatively let go of Jareth's arm, but he remained protectively near her as he would until he was forced to leave her side.

"Milady, you are even more beautiful than I remember from just a week ago," he said as he lay a kiss upon her cheek.

"And you are even more charming." The Sage and the Gavel were more formal with their greetings.

Each of the Representatives greeted her formally as well. Gandor slipped in a little wink, but under the watchful eye of the Triumvirate he was careful. Even Tiberon, brazen as he had been behind the back of the king, was on his best behavior, giving her little more than a smile in the way of extra attention. Elbereth, Representative of the Northwest sector, seemed pleasant enough. As his sector had been, he gave off a welcoming vibration. Sarah liked the way his eyes seemed as blue as the sky. His hair was salt and pepper, his smile warm and sincere. Ranofyr, on the other hand, had stark red hair. He was waif and gaunt, the discoloration around his eyes fanning straight back under his temples making his eyes seem like tiny slits. When Ranofyr greeted Sarah, he let his eyes go wide at the sight of her. Around his pupils his eyes appeared almost red, nearly glowing. Sarah blinked, sure it was a trick of lights or a figment of her imagination. Upon a second look, she found them more auburn. Jareth's hand fell to the small of her back and guided her along the line, but Ranofyr kept his eyes locked with Sarah's. They hinted red once more before she looked away.

She was introduced to the royals. Darien, Jareth's grandfather and his wife Arianna. After everything Atofina had told her, it gave Sarah chills when Darien took her hand. Arianna had a watchful eye on him. Sarah greeted him rather mechanically, caught between the feeling his presence gave her and the uncomfortable stare of Arianna. The former queen was not a particularly attractive woman, seeming to be far more senior to Darien than she actually was, but despite that she gave off a warm and friendly energy when she took Sarah's hand. While the other royals were not true descendants of the king, they were either in some way connected to the Triumvirate or the Representatives and through that association, looked at upon more favorably than commoners. At the end of the receiving line Deverell and Turgomon waited. As she completed her last hand shake, Turgomon took up her arm and smiled, "I told you you'd be just fine."

"Indeed you did," she smiled. With a guide to either side, Sarah followed Jareth into the dinning room. The king held out her chair and she took her seat to his left. Promptly at six the buffet was prepared and everyone was invited to fill their plates. Even though she was starving from eating so lightly at breakfast and lunch, Sarah was careful not to overdo it. Jareth's last minute idea to hold a buffet worked quite well. He and Sarah, along with the Triumvirate, the Representatives and Jareth's personal staff made up the main table. Several large tables were laid out in a U-shape before the main table and the buffet between them where everyone could easily help themselves to seconds.

Sarah leaned over to Jareth, "Where's your great grand father? Shouldn't he have been invited?"

"He was," Jareth said quickly. "Please, just eat."

"I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright. It truly isn't appropriate for us to be speaking during the meal. It's frowned upon." Jareth's eyes remained on his plate, his lips moved as little as was necessary to allow the words to pass.

"I see," but she didn't mean the words she said.

Turgomon was at the right side of the mortal, "Don't worry Sarah. It's just the formality of being king."

"I'm not worried," Sarah proclaimed as she straightened her spine and turned her attention to the meal. When she rose her head again, she noticed everyone else busily chatting amongst themselves. Sarah longed to be part of any of the number of conversations which filled the air incoherently around her. Silence disturbed her more than any noise most people were more commonly irritated by. By the time desert was served, Sarah thought she would claw her skin off. Each of Jareth's wait staff presented a Baked Alaska to the cluster of guest to which they'd been assigned. As they all set the desert a flame, there was cheering and clapping followed by a few exchanges of surprise. The production, she thought, would sustain her until the dancing begun. Mercifully, the desert by its nature required quick eating.

When the meal concluded, Jareth excused the guests as well as Deverell and Turgomon. Back in the ballroom the guests began to don their masks. Each was extravagant, whether it wound round their heads or perched on a pole they carried about with them. Most had horns or long noses. Many of the men wore hats. They chatted in small groups as they awaited the entrance of the king. Sarah and Jareth put their masks in place before they joined the others.

Sarah stood at the doorway, her silver mask on a pole held tight in her sweaty palm. It was a simple mask, made to cover the eyes and nose, trimmed with black. Jareth came up behind her snaking his arm along her waist. The extended nose of the mask he wore brushed along her cheek as he purred into her ear, "Guess who?"

Lifting the pole so that Sarah's mask covered her face, she turned and replied, "I would know you anywhere, by the rhythm of your breath, the wrinkle at the corner of your mouth when you smile, even the gait of your stride, each is a siren that blares your name."

The king had not expected such an intimate answer from the mortal. His entire demeanor thrown, he quickly turned her around and suggested, "We best not keep our guests waiting." He extended his elbow to her. Using his magic to cast open the doors, he marched them through, leading Sarah to the center of the dance floor, wound one arm about her waist and took her hand in his.

The music they played had no words, but it was good for waltzing, lots of strings and whole notes that made the box step seem appropriate. A couple of minutes into the song, most everyone around them had taken to the dance floor. All but the Triumvirate, who had politely excused themselves after dinner, Tiberon who stood against the west wall, with one foot propped behind him and some redheaded woman whose name Sarah didn't know, but whom she had caught staring at her over Jareth's shoulder. She knew the woman wasn't a royal because she hadn't been in the receiving line. Feeling confident, Sarah let her arm slide up the back of the king's neck. Jareth shook his head until she returned her hand to his shoulder. After thirty seconds or so, she tried sliding her hand onto his chest. To her dismay there was no open chest there for her to touch, not even the gentle thumping of his heartbeat. Through gritted teeth he warned her, "Sarah, you mustn't behave this way, not here, not in front of these people.

"No one's even paying attention to us anymore," she told him using her thumb to stroke along his own, down over the heel of his hand.

"Sarah, please, for a multitude of reasons, which I'd rather not discuss right now, we absolutely cannot behave this way."

"I think I would rather discuss them. Right now." Despite how furious she was with him, her tones remained dull, low enough that no one heard them but him.

"You think you would, but trust me when I..."

"Trust you? I've grown weary of this constant need to trust you. When are you going to begin trusting me?"

"When you start obeying the rules I've set forth for you then perhaps I can begin to trust you."

"Rules," her voice had gotten a bit loud. Before going on she cleared her throat and took a deep breath. "What happened to the mighty Goblin King? The one who stole me out of my brother's room at night and banished me to his maze. The one who broke every rule, reordered time, defied the principles of physics and did it all for me."

Jareth hardened his gaze, "He allowed himself to love a girl who refused to love him in return. Then he spent fifteen years watching his kingdom destroy itself and now," he tightened his grip on her in anger, "now, this Goblin King you seem to miss so much is desperately trying to keep that from happening again."

"So our relationship, it's what, just a duty for you?"

"We have no relationship!" Jareth looked around to see if anyone had heard him raise his voice. Only Deverell looked in their direction and the king felt fairly safe that he was no threat. "We have no relationship. You're little more than one of my servants. That is how these people must see you and in front of these people I can only treat you that way. You're putting everything I've worked for in jeopardy with these games of yours. I understand that you have these feelings which apparently you lack control over."

"Feelings, that I can't control? You know Jareth, you haven't exactly shown a whole lot of restraint yourself, especially in my room last night."

The song had ended with her words. He leaned into her ear as he would have normally done to thank her for the dance, but instead he said roughly, "You have no idea just what kind of control I have exhibited with you." Leaving her standing slack jawed in the middle of the dance floor the king stepped away his wicked grin flashing in the direction of a few of his guests.

Fuming Sarah turned to storm after him, but was quickly caught up in someone's arms. For a second she struggled until familiar violet eyes met hers. "Milady, the king would not take kindly to your chasing after him." Turgomon's black hair was fashioned into a pony tail at the nape of his neck. He wore a high necked red shirt held in place by a black and red quilted vest. From waist to knees his black tights were hidden by breeches and which peaked out only briefly before meeting the tops of his boots.

"I don't much give a shit what the king would take kindly too."

Tiberon smiled gleefully at her words. "Would you care to accompany me to the gardens?"

"I'm sure that would rank much higher on the list of things to which the king would not take kindly to than my chasing after him."

"True," Tiberon conceded. "Still, I think you and I got off to a rather misconstrued start, so I'll ask you once more, would you care to accompany me to the gardens?"

"I would love nothing more."

The night air was clean and clear. A million stars filled the patch of sky above their heads. Tiberon sat on one of the stone benches in the garden. "Won't you join me?"

"I'm fine here," she told him as she stood beneath an archway covered in miniature roses. She was still angry at the way Jareth behaved, for the things he had said, but being outside where there were no walls was helping those feelings to pass. She looked in through the French doors of the music room. "Who does he think he is anyway?"

"King?" Tiberon offered.

"Exactly, king. Well I suppose he is king, but that doesn't give him the right to, well yeah, I mean I guess it does, but not to me. I'm not part of his kingdom, not one of his subjects and most certainly not his servant!"

"What is it that has you so angry, milady?"

"Nothing," she lied knowing that Jareth would not be happy to have his laundry aired. "I just get so tired of him acting like he's king twenty four seven."

"Twenty four seven?"

"All the time."

"I see," he said amused.

Sarah immediately followed on another tirade of things which irritated her about the king and the Underground as she sat beside the Representative. Only half listening, Tiberon leaned back, plucked a violet from the garden and placed it across Sarah's lap. For a moment she stopped her ranting and just looked at the flower. Cautiously she reached for the stem and lifted the fragrant petals to her nose. It was light and sweet. "Thank you," she managed with a smile. "Look at me, missing the dancing and making you miss it too."

"Nonsense, he may be the only king around here, but he's not the only one with magic." Tiberon threw open one of the French doors and cast a spell that started the piano playing. "May I?"

Forgotten was the fey who terrified her in the woods. Tiberon had become something magical here at the castle. Sarah curtsied and took his hand. She knew it was wrong, completely against Jareth's wishes. If Deverell or Turgomon were to find her they'd surely convey the king's strong opposition. He pulled her close into his arms, just the way Jareth had the night before. She felt her body start to respond. 'Christ!' she thought. 'Was it the touch she was responding to or the memory of Jareth?'

Tiberon noticed the far away look in her eyes. "We'll have our own ball, if we need to. I could dance with you like this until dawn." His mouth was pressed against her ear. Sarah pulled back from him, his words sounding all wrong to her. Not just that he shouldn't be saying them, no, indeed, it went much further than that. He shouldn't be feeling them. They barely knew one another, certainly not well enough for him to express such eagerness for her close company. The fey only looked at her, through her more like, in a way that Sarah had decided only fey could do. "Something wrong?" he asked.

"Milady," Deverell called from inside the music room. He walked quickly to her side, "Milady, the king is beside himself wondering where you've been. Allow me to escort you inside." Sarah's arm fed through the young fey's and she followed him willingly. Her eyes met Tiberon's once more. With a pleading glance that showed she was torn between staying and going, Sarah lifted the violet to her nose and inhaled deeply before tossing it back to Tiberon.

Back inside the ball, Sarah stood between Deverell and Turgomon, feeling trapped again. Jumbled words echoed in her head. Something about Jareth's stare, being able to feel his eyes on you even standing in a crowded room. When she focused again, she saw those mismatched eyes, narrowed on her from across the room. Sarah tried to force a smile, but the king kept his face blank as a canvas. As she continued to match his gaze, Sarah saw a familiar redhead snake her way toward the king. The dress, the mask, she had seen them earlier as the woman stared on at she and Jareth during their dance. Draping her arm over his shoulder, the red head spun in front of the king, her right hand raising up to trace his jaw line. In shock Sarah watched as Jareth returned the woman's smile, seemingly pleased by her affections. "Sonofa..."

"Milady, care you to take the dance floor with me?" Turgomon asked already beginning to take her into his arms.

"No, thank you," she refused him, attempting to brush his hand from about her waist. "I haven't the king's permission to dance with you."

"The king's approval doesn't seem to be all that important to you if you ask me and besides, Jareth has already given both Deverell and myself his permission to entertain you." Turgomon drug her onto the dance floor with him. "Has it occurred to you that you might be overreacting, even misunderstanding the things his majesty says and does at a function such as this one?"

"Though I don't proclaim to know all there is to know about royalty or fey, I think that I do understand basic English, thank you."

"But do you understand the meaning behind the words you hear?"

"I know what he meant."

"Do you? How well do you know him Sarah? What's his favorite food? How old was he when he became king? What was the name of his first horse?"

"I...I...I don't know," she stammered. For the first time Sarah realized that despite the physical relationship they shared, she knew nothing about him. Nothing more than he was very appealing and incredibly talented in bed. That he wore magic well, like a second skin. His spells sometimes so graceful it seemed as though the universe moved at his command. That he, like anyone, had a mother and a father, but all else remained a mystery.

As they danced, Tiberon approached Deverell, "So, you were sent to assist the king?"

"There is much to be done in anticipation of the renewal of the Underground," Deverell said flatly, already getting a bad vibe about him.

"I have boots older than you boy. Have a little respect."

"And I have trapped fire fairies with more brains than you," he muttered before walking away.

In the meanwhile, Jareth had begun to dance with the redhead who had been flirting with him. They hadn't taken more than two turns by the time Sarah noticed. "Who is she?" Sarah asked Turgomon.

The king's advisor tried a simple answer first. "Her name is Maeve."

It was the Underground which had taught Sarah how to ask questions and she was relentless when she wanted answers. "I didn't ask you her name. I asked you who she was."

"She is a fey who once shared his majesty's company, years before your name was ever heard here."

She swallowed hard at his response, "They were lovers?" Jareth was centuries old and the fact that he had a lover before he'd met her should have surprised her no more than the knowledge that woman had been to his bed since. Yet, it gnawed at her as she drew the comparison that while she had never had anyone awaken the desire within in her before Jareth all those years ago. Others since, but none before and though their relationship had been a platonic one, the young and impressionable girl had been deeply effected by the tension that surrounds a man who could so easily turn charm to sex appeal in the blink of a mismatched eye.

"As a matter of speaking," Turgomon replied.

"How long?" In truth, she didn't want to know, but she asked. As if knowing that they had only been together for a short time would somehow ease the butterflies that seemed to flutter about inside her chest. If the king's advisor were to tell her that they had been together for some inconceivable long time by mortal standards, perhaps it would warm her to know that he could have loyalty to a woman.

"I fail to see where any of this is relevant."

"How long?" Sarah repeated.

"A couple of years," the advisor confessed.

'A couple of years,' Sarah thought. 'Jareth had allowed someone to stay by his side for a couple of years, but her, despite these feelings for him she continuously tried to label, she could not remain in his favor for more than a few days.

The song ended and another began. Turgomon bowed to the mortal. Sarah didn't move, not so much as a breath. She watched on intently as Jareth and Maeve continued to dance. A patterned stop that reminded her of mortal line dancing. The pair's eyes locked on one another. Their hands clasped above their heads, fingers entwined, as their arms swept one over the other. Two bodies brushing together in a roomful of curious eyes, but no one more curious than Sarah. The female fey's mask was strung around her head, her thick red curls hiding the cord. The face plate was brownish red, with two large horns that protruded from her temple holding back her stacked ringlets and two wing-like panels that covered the top of her ears. Maeve felt the mortal's eyes upon her and glanced over Jareth's shoulder with a smile and a wink. She whispered something in the king's ear. Jareth turned to look at Sarah who cursed because his face never seemed to give anything away. Drawing her lips into a stiff pout, Sarah turned and left the dance floor tears rising in her eyes. No title had been assigned to the feelings that were welling up inside her, but she thought they might be some strain of jealousy.

"A face as beautiful as this one, should be kept free of things that might mare it," soft black gloves touched her face wiping away the salty droplets that streaked her cheeks.

Seeing Tiberon approach Sarah, Deverell moved again to rescue the maiden. "Leave her make her own mistakes boy. We've got bigger woes which beg our attention. One of the king's guards tell me they've not seen Darien for more than thirty minutes since he asked a servant for directions to the washroom."

"Darien?" Deverell asked.

Pulling him along, Turgomon grumbled, "I haven't the time or energy to go into detail, but he is a dangerous fey and not to be trusted. I will check the rooms on the main floor, you search upstairs. I want him found before the hours up." Looking at the clock against the wall this left them twenty minutes.

Turgomon found Darien in the king's office, sitting at his desk, staring at his own portrait on the wall. "Sir, beg your pardon, but were you lost on your way to the wash room."

"Surely you must know well enough by now that I grew up in these halls, played in them as a child. How is it that I would manage to lose my way in a place I know as well as my own hand?"

"Then I'll dispense with the formality and remind you that no one is permitted in the king's chamber without his presence and invitation."

"A rule I instituted, I might add," Darien refused to allow himself to intimidated.

"One would think you might have a bit more respect for it then."

Darien rose from behind the desk and stalked about the king's assistance with as much authority as Jareth had when he behaved the same way. "I was once the king, in fact, were it not for that incompetent daughter of mine, I would still be king. Were we to talk about respect, boy, I would think it would be yours we'd need to discuss and not mine." He stood before his own portrait, giving a quick glance to the right, he took in the portrait of Corwyn. Lips twisting in a look of disgust, he quickly found more words to share. "But Jareth has everything, doesn't he? I'll bet you he thinks he does? He should. No siblings, no wife, no children. No sons hidden in the shadows, no flight of fancy young daughters with romantic notions. If fate had seen fit to free me of those burdens, I could have been a great king," he turned to face the advisor, "twice what my grandson is, three times my father."

"My father was your father's advisor, and for a short time yours as well," Turgomon reminded him. "According to the tales I've been told you were nowhere near a fraction of the fey Oberon was and even less worthy than a goblin to wear the crown."

"There is a saying that one should believe half of what they see, less of what they read and none of what they hear. Your father was dismissed from my employ for treason, a crime I could have had him executed for. Seems to me you ought to be thanking me."

"I'll thank you to leave the king's office and return to the ballroom immediately, otherwise I shall be forced to call the guards and let them see to your removal. Being that you were once king, I will concede the choice to you."

"Why make such a case out of an old man who wanted but a moment to remember a life which had passed him by? Has serving your king gotten so mundane that you seek out these meager entertainments?"

"My service to his majesty leaves me quite fulfilled."

"And occupied, I would imagine," Darien watched as interest filled Turgomon's eyes. "His prize has returned to the Underground, his mortal back by his side. Why with his spine softened I'm sure most of his royal duties are falling to the shoulders of others. Distracted by love, if that's what he wishes to call it, he grows lax, he becomes weak."

"The kingdom is as strong as it has ever been," Turgomon said authoritatively.

Darien contradicted to him, "My boy, you have no idea just how weak this kingdom has been since it's conception." That said he left the room, dignity in tact and returned on his own volition to the ball room.

Smiling weakly up at the Representative, Sarah replied, "I really have no idea why I'm crying."

"Neither do I," Tiberon folded his arm about Sarah's waist and waltzed her back onto the floor. He held her tightly to him. Sarah hoped the king was watching, hoped he would see her dancing with someone he didn't approve of, someone he certainly hadn't given permission to. Before long she had actually begun to enjoy herself, allowing the fey to spin her this way and that until she felt nearly drunk. No longer was she concerned with being held too tightly or the feel of his breath on her neck, these moments were about the music and being completely lost in it. Even as the song changed, she didn't notice.

The deep dream state she slipped into made it all the more unexpected to hear Jareth's voice suddenly very close. "May I cut in?" Suddenly the mortal felt all too sober.

"Your highness, you have a great number of female guests here tonight waiting for you to dance with them, surely the one dance you've shared with Sarah was plenty."

Glowering down at the Representative, Jareth coolly proposed "Allow me to rephrase my question then, I am cutting in, what would you like to do about it?" Somewhere inside, Sarah smiled, happy to see him fighting over her. Jareth grabbed her roughly by the waist and pulled her to him. "This mortal is mine. If you so greatly desire one, go find your own." And so the feud begun, the typical male ritual of not allowing other males to 'play with their toys' as it were. A ritual that Sarah now knew was not confined to the males Aboveground.

Before backing down Tiberon raised his eyebrow at the king. With a quick bow he thanked Sarah for the dance and blew her a kiss. When the Representative had achieved an adequate distance, Jareth asked her, "What do you think you're doing?"

"I was dancing." Her words had an air of innocence about them.

"You're trying to ruin me."

"Ruin you?"

"Yes. Conducting yourself the way you were with Tiberon and so openly. Why before long you'll have ever royal in the room convinced that I'm incapable of controlling a mortal." His words were sour as he spoke to her.

"You expect me to let these people believe that you control me?"

"Of course," he said nonchalantly as though it came as a surprise to him, her being upset at the situation.

"Is that what you meant telling Tiberon that I was yours? Some macho I've got two woman and you can't have any game of control and possession, won by the boy who owns the castle."

"If that is how you choose to look at it," he looked down and reminded her in a wary tone, "You agreed to these conditions when I posed them to you on our way back to the castle." Her eyes dimmed as she conceded, "Now it's nearly eleven, do you think you could possibly manage to behave yourself for just an hour longer?"

"I'm not running up to my room when the clock strikes twelve Jareth, I'm not a child."

"You will address me properly."

"Were I to address you with the title on my mind just now, it would be most unpleasant. Now, I believe you've left the lovely Maeve to stand alone over there. Best you run to her before she takes some new lover."

"Is that what this is about? Your jealous?" Nearly smiling the king waited for her answer.

"I'm no such thing. You think you can send Deverell and Turgomon to babysit me, but you've given them so many other tasks this evening that they haven't been much of a challenge to avoid or escape. I'll tell you what this is about. You want to be able to tell me that we have no relationship, but you also want to keep me from having a relationship with anyone else. Where I come from, I'm of legal age. I was told that I needed to repair this world, but I was never told I had to forget where I come from."

"I don't much care who you see as long as it doesn't endanger my kingdom. Trust me... I'm sorry...I mean take my word for it, Tiberon will endanger my kingdom. I forbid you to see him."

"You forbid me," she laughed. "You have no..."

"Let's not go through this again." Jareth rose a finger to her lips. Even as fury continued to drive the blood pounding through her veins, Sarah admitted to a tingle at his touch.

"You have no right to forbid me to do anything," she finished.

"May I cut in?" Darien asked sneaking up on them as the song ended. Jareth eyed him in his gold and white attire, layer upon layer of rich silk, still dressing as if he were king. The outermost layer a golden frock coat which bore the Triumvirate's insignia, a symbol which he wasn't worthy to wear, but one that for what ever reason he felt a kinship to. When he held the title of king, he had it embossed on everything from letterhead to bed linens. Perhaps he felt as if it brought him some measure of security, with him being a marked man and all. The white tights which escaped his knee length golden breeches met with fantastically ornate golden ankle boots which made him appear ridiculous, but he wore them anyway, with the same pride and arrogance he'd always shown, somehow fooled into believing that he was truly better than anyone who shared the space around him.

"Ask her," Jareth replied distastefully before marching off.

Sarah did accept the dance with Darien, if for no other reason than to irritate Jareth a little more. As Jareth left the dance floor, he met his advisor. Turgomon was coming to tell him about his run in with the former king when he became distracted at the sight of Darien with the mortal in his arms. "Your majesty, we cannot allow him access to the girl."

"Leave her be. If she wants to dance with the devil, let her have her fun. Since she doesn't wish to heed my advice, perhaps it is best I let her learn for herself." Jareth walked off in the direction of another of his guests.

Turgomon searched the room for any sign of Deverell, but it seemed as if he had yet to return from his sweep of the upstairs. The advisor followed the king, "Beg pardon your grace, but might I request a word with you."

Jareth excused himself from his guest, "Yes Turgomon, you have something to say to me."

"Indeed your grace, although I wonder if we shouldn't leave the room first."

A quick look around reminded the king that his mortal was still in his grandfather's arms. "No, no," he said clearly, but quietly. "I may have sworn off chaperoning the mortal, but as of yet I have not lifted your order to do so."

"Yes your grace," Turgomon positioned himself carefully in a spot where he could both carry on private conversation with the king while keeping one eye forever on the girl. "For some time this night, your...I mean to say Sir Darien wandered away from the ballroom."

"Where did he wander to?" Jareth asked with great curiosity.

"Your office my lord, I found him there only moments ago."

"What did he want in my office?" The king did little to hide his fury.

Turgomon smiled and feigned a laugh as he noticed a few guests look their way. "Your majesty, I believe he has drunk more than twice his fill and in an act of reflection sought the room for all the comforts it once gave him. An old fool as he were who may be close to losing his mind." The advisor paused in his analysis before continuing, "He spoke of your love for the mortal, of the weakness it created within you and the vulnerability it brought to the kingdom."

"Darien wouldn't know love if it crawled out of the black hole in his chest where the Supreme One forgot to place a heart and bit him on the end of his nose which his eyes haven't seen passed in more than a century. I am not weak and this kingdom is not vulnerable. Furthermore, damn any fey," he glanced at the twirling couple on the floor, "or mortal for that matter that dares to suggest otherwise. Bring them on if they have the courage to fight me."

"Your grace, now is not the time to raise you ire, it's best we discuss the details of this another day." Turgomon bowed to take his leave.

Jareth took his arm in a stiff grip, "There is nothing to discuss. Let them say what they will, let them think what they may. My grandfather, the royals, the Representatives, it matters very little to me what their opinions are. In two moons time, this kingdom, my kingdom will be restored and I will be free of all that has hindered me so long. Then they may come in droves, for I will defend my lands and my castle with each breath I hold. Nothing else I have is worth fighting for. Nothing." The proclamation was stern, believable, kingly, but Turgomon had to wonder whom it was that the king was trying to convince. His eyes did not meet his advisor's eyes when he spoke and though it was hardly a speech to be made aloud, it lacked the conviction it should have had. Jareth's mind was elsewhere and his advisor knew that, he just didn't know where.

While they danced, the former king had been polite for the most part. As Sarah had been warned, Darien had a roaming eye and wandering hands. More than once she caught him conversing with her chest and once she thought his hand dipped a little too low from her hip, but she managed to remedy these situations with a shift of weight or a clearing of her throat. He asked her an enormous load of questions. Everything from what was seemingly innocent, "How are you enjoying your stay in the Underground?", to the overtly sexual, "Has my grandson made proper arrangements for your stay or are you bedding in his suite?" His reputation had preceded him and if she were to be fully honest, the depth of his query didn't shock Sarah. In fact, it was easily apparent how a woman could fall for his charismatic charm, not to mention, he was quite handsome, even at his advanced age.

"You know my grandson fancies you quite a lot," he said as another song began, ignoring Sarah's attempt to curtsey and excuse herself.

"Coulda fooled me," she huffed, forgetting her manners for a moment.

Darien smiled at her mortal outburst. "No really," he continued, "It's as plain as the nose on his face, the one beneath the mask." Sarah smiled thinking it silly that he found the need to clarify his analogy.

"You might think so, but let me assure you, we have no relationship," to coin Jareth's phrase.

"You sound much like the man who fell in love with my daughter. He too doubted her love at first."

"You must miss your daughter very much," Sarah offered.

Darien's eyes expressed the emotions he did not have. They told a bogus tale of love and loss of grief and bereavement as his better judgment fought his truthful tongue, winning out to answer with a simple, "Indeed." He turned her about the dance floor a few times and when the anger at the mention of his daughter had passed he spoke again, "But I see her now when I look at you."

"I do not wish to argue with someone whom I know so little of, certainly I hate to disagree with the former king, but you must be mistaken. I have seen your daughters portrait and I pale to her by comparison."

"You have her same raven hair and when I see it pulled back in her combs," Darien swept over her mane with the hand that had been holding hers. If only he had pursued his talents in acting with half the fervor he pursued the crown, he could have blazed the stages of more than one kingdom acquiring accolades like some collected berries in the wood, by the bushels and usually very sweet. "These were her favorites, hand crafted silver made by the finest elfish silversmith's in the realm. A present for her on the day she took the throne. And this," Darien's hand surfed over the hollow of Sarah's neck, his fingers supporting the charm that hung from the embroidered black band encircling her neck, "When Ian was given the king's necklace, he had this crafted for his wife, so that no matter where she traveled they would always know where she belonged and to whom."

"A dog collar?" Sarah asked.

"I'm sorry. My experience with mortal's is much more limited than most of the royals I'm afraid."

"A branding mark. Something to let other's know where she belonged," she paused, "and to whom."

Inside he grinned, content with the thought he had placed in her head, but just to be certain he added, "Fey, especially those who hold coveted positions in the Underground have that habit, seeing as how their woman are much sought after."

"I've always found it rather amusing that the woman bare the brand while the men are openly permitted to philander to their liking, choosing from commoners and courtesans alike to satisfy their urges, turning to their wives only when the find it necessary for the production of an heir." It was Arianna's voice that whispered to him, loud enough for Sarah to hear. She didn't make eye contact with the mortal, only spoke her piece and carried on her way to the bar.

"Milady, I should take my leave, there are many other younger men here tonight with whom I'm certain you would rather keep company. Thank you for the dance," he bowed. Sarah curtsied and returned to Turgomon's side along the wall.

"I've just been made aware of the most interesting thing Turgomon, but since I've been warned not to put my faith in the source of this information, I'm asking you. Tell me your honest reply, this head piece and the necklace, were they the Leanan Sidhe's?"

"Why do you ask milady?"

"You were her advisor, were they the Sidhe's?"

"Aye milady," he answered.

"Is it true she wore the necklace as a brand?"

"'Tis a mortal custom to wear a ring, one which it is my understanding announces to all others that the lady is spoken for." Patiently he waited for her confirmation of this fact.

"As does the man wear a band that says the same," she spoke hotly.

"Well, milady, here it became a custom of the royals to fit their woman with a piece of jewelry all the same, but as I'm sure you've noticed, many of the fey wear gloves, making it only fitting to place the sign about a maiden's neck, where it can be prominently displayed."

Sarah's blood set to boiling once more. 'How dare he mark me,' she thought as her eyes sought out the king who was busy talking to two men who seemed very old and yet were in fact, older than Sarah could conceive. Beginning a course that would end at his side, her tiny feet carried her across the polished floor.

As if his heightened senses anticipated her arrival, Jareth had already excused himself by the time Sarah reached him. Before she could speak, he turned and asked, "How might I help you milady?"

"This," she said as her fingers struggled with the latch on the embroidered band, "I want it off. I won't wear your brand one second more."

"My brand?"

"To think you would tell me we have no relationship and then send me out with a mark to tell all other's I was yours!"

Jareth enjoyed a good laugh at this, "Milady, I know not where you get such a yarn from, but surely I would like this storyteller to share more of his tales with me. That is no brand as you say, it is more of a tag, to be certain that others know you are my property. It is as much for my benefit as for your protection and I would think long and hard before removing it."

The words of the king only made her more angry. "You won't be satisfied until you've made me just like her."

"Who?"

"Your mother. First her combs, then her necklace and perhaps when you've driven me to hate you as much as she hates you, you'll lock me away in room no bigger than the one you built for her where I can spend eternity."

"Sarah, the last thing I want is for you to be like my mother," it surprised her the honesty in his words, the conviction with which he said them, but most of all the solemn look her taunt had left on his face. "It seems as though you are bent to not believe a word of honesty I speak tonight and yet, you put your faith in all my airs when you should know the difference between who I am and who I must profess to be," he looked her over. "Or perhaps it is I who has put to much faith in what you have said." She returned his gaze with one of her own, laden with confusion at his cryptic words. "You spoke earlier of how easily identifiable I am to you, perhaps I believed you too quickly when you spoke."

The clock chimed twelve while they stood and stared at one another. Deverell reentered the ballroom, somewhat put off that Turgomon had not found him and let him know that the search had been called off. Quickly he went to the king's side, "Your majesty, should I see the girl to her room."

"You may take her to the main hall, ring for Arulan who will take her to her room. It would be most inappropriate for you to see her to her room."

"Yes your grace," he replied.

Sarah curtsied. Jareth returned with a low bow. "Thank you for a most interesting evening. If you don't mind, I think I would like to return to my room."

"As you wish," the king told her, knowing full well that she was compromising for him. Jareth knew woman well. Well enough to say for certain, this was not the last he would hear of this night or it's events, but he was glad that at least for the time being she'd let the matter lie. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the ballroom doors close, her on the other side, safe from the characters who remained.

Deverell and Turgomon were both strongly reprimanded. In no uncertain terms the king demanded they not allow Darien or Tiberon to leave the ballroom until they were escorted to their coaches and even then, he asked to have a sweep of the grounds before the castle was locked downed. He expected that with everyone having seen the mortal and her subsequent early departure the party would soon wrap up. As was customary in the Underground, little went according to schedule. The guests remained for several hours after Sarah was taken to her room. Jareth in the meantime did his best to escape Maeve, but she was clever, conveniently bumping into him at every turn. "What's the matter Jareth, did I upset the mortal?"

"What does it matter?"

"Come dance with me?" she plied, tugging at his arm.

"I don't feel like dancing."

"Aw, Jareth, you used to be fun."

At her reference he grew sentimental, "Not enough for you as I recall it."

Maeve swatted a hand against his chest, "Nonsense darling, I was young and foolish. I had a case of cold feet that you overreacted to. You fey are always thinking that sort of thing is reserved for the male of the species when I can tell you that it happens to the women as well."

"I asked you to marry me and you slept with my defense officer."

"Emanon meant nothing to me. I was confused, frightened at the thought of being your queen. Worried that I might not be able to satisfy you," her pleading eyes sparkled as she added, "outside the bedroom that is." Her hands found his and placed them on her hips. Maeve took his face in her palms and stared intently into his eyes. Tiberon watched from where he stood on the other end of the ballroom, impressed at how well the redhead did what was expected of her while he wished she would have given this performance while Sarah was in the room. "Were you to ask me today, my reaction would be very different."

"Please Maeve," he asked sternly, placing her hands back at her side and straightening his coat, " I've gotten rather used to being a loner."

"Gotten used to it on your own or been forced to deal with the sentence handed you by others." Her lips drifted near his neck, her rose red lipstick threatening to stain his ascot.

"'Tis not my nature to allow others to make my choices for me," he proclaimed. Not the king's face, nor his body responded to Maeve's forwardness. "As 'tis not my nature to allow other's to take advantage of me."

"Used to be that I was expected to take advantage of you," she pointed out.

"Yes well, with age comes wisdom. Let's not dwell upon what existed once in the far gone past."

"If you ask me, you've got the same problem your mother had." He looked on at her curiously, "You've ruined your tastes by succumbing to a mortal."

Jareth would have chastised her for telling a lie, but she had spoken the truth. In the same way his mother quested for love that was extraordinary, he too went in search of the woman who could make even his fairytale life something other worldly. Once he thought it would have been Maeve. She was the first to turn his head when he was much older than most fey who had already known the love of a woman, the beautiful woman before him took the king in her stride and taught him much for which other woman had been very grateful. What he mistook for love was little more than stumbling onto someone he could easily tolerate in an effort to produce an heir that would rid him of the responsibility of the throne. It was she who first earned his trust. She who first broke it.

But that was before. Before he watched the mortal, the one they thought might have been an easy opponent for Jareth. Before he gave Sarah magic and before she used that magic against him. Now she held his soul. For someone like Maeve, someone who knew him intimately once, it was easy to discern. "I'd rather succumb to a city of mortals than revisit a whore's cold bed."

She scowled at him, "No woman, human, fey or otherwise could ever do the things I did for you, the things I did to you. You've just forgotten is all."

Though desperate, it was amusing to see her so dejected, "Well if I've forgotten it, it couldn't have been all that memorable an experience in the first place." He watched as she opened her mouth, but before she could chastise him, he told her, "Please Maeve, my guests are beginning to leave, I have my obligations. It was marvelous to see you, really, let's do it again," Jareth stepped away. Glancing back over his shoulder, he added, "In about 200 years."

"You'll be sorry Jareth," she muttered under her breath. Though he heard, Jareth didn't acknowledge her. Out of earshot her rage continued, "When Tiberon finishes with you, you'll know real loneliness and see if I'm so eager to be with you then."


	25. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR - VISITING THE NORTHEASTERN SECTOR**

Sarah had waited in her gown and slippers, in a chair beside the door which adjoined her room to the king's until shortly after four in the morning when she finally heard him stumble in. She was of good mind to barge in on him and ask what he thought he was proving staying there so long, curious if he had spent the time with Maeve. Instead she stopped her hand just shy of the door knob. On the other side, it was Jareth's intention to look in on what he thought was a sleeping mortal, in hopes that he might give himself the peace of mind he need for a good night's rest. But his hand stilled as well. They stood with nothing more than a door between them, one that had been built in a metaphor for exactly the situation they had created for themselves. So it would someday occur to wordsmiths in both the Aboveground and the Underground to weave yarns of not just mortal stupidity, but the stubbornness of the fey as well. Crawling into bed, each dissatisfied with how things had been left with the other, they closed their eyes and prayed for a mercifully deep and dreamless sleep to visit them, that the rising of the sun would come late in the morning and the events of the ball somehow made to disappear with this day. Both of them knew that prayers often went unanswered for one reason or another, but they hoped and were thankful that they were still able to do even that.

By the time sleep came, the sun was not far behind. Then it was Arulan, her singsong voice calling them to peel open their eyes and partake of the breakfasts which had been prepared for them. "You're as bad as his majesty is this morning, yet I'd wager you got to bed earlier than he." She was wrong in assuming that. "So tell me," she plopped on the edge of Sarah's bed, "how was the ball." Sarah only shrugged, unsure how to best answer the question being asked of her. "Come now girl, you must have something to tell me."

Everything and yet nothing to tell. She wished she could talk about Maeve, but she feared that would disrupt the relationship Arulan had with Jareth. Sarah wished she could talk about those foreign pangs of jealousy which she seemed to harbor in her, but that too seemed sinfully inappropriate. There was always Darien to talk about, but that led to the combs and the necklace and more that she felt the elf would not appreciate. Or Tiberon, but that would segue to Maeve and the jealousy. 'For what is on it's face an easy question, there is no easy answer,' Sarah thought.

"The food was marvelous," She finally spat.

Not fooled by her decoy, Arulan pursued, "So marvelous that you haven't the room for your breakfast and divine enough I gather that you stayed awake all night wondering if you could sneak back to the kitchen unnoticed for a snack, thus explaining why your demeanor is what it is." Sarah nodded. "What do you take me for? An elf who was born only yesterday? Was it like I told you it would be? That first dance, did you make it through without tripping and falling?"

Oh, that tripping and falling were all she had to worry about now. "It was precisely as you said it would be up to and including the first dance."

"What did they play?"

The mortal shook her head, picking at her food, "I'm afraid I'm not terribly familiar with your music, besides, it had no words."

Arulan smiled, "Not surprising. Words are taken rather seriously in the Underground. If his majesty were to have danced with you to a song which had words, well depending upon the words, it could have been very bad."

Thinking a moment, Sarah's face blushed. The second time they danced there had been words. First she danced to them with Tiberon, got lost in the story of two lovers who hid from one another in a masquerade, denying what they knew was true, playing fools. But it was Jareth who ended the dance with her securely in his arms. "What do you mean it could have been very bad?"

"Well it could show the king's weakness or it could have indicated that he had feelings for you that weren't appropriate given that you are..."

"A mortal?"

Arulan shook her head, angry that mortals had been so readily accepted as all alike when in fact they were as different as garden gnomes and wood nymphs, but it was always one cultures way to fear and punish that which they could not readily understand, "But truth is you'd be subject to the same scrutiny even if you were an immortal who had not descended from the royal's line."

"Be that as it may, I was not well received. I shouldn't say that. I was received graciously by most who waited in the line to greet me, but aside from Jareth, Deverell and Turgomon, the only ones who would associate with me were Darien and Tiberon."

Catching her head with her palm, Arulan moaned, "No wonder the others shunned you. The two worst apples in the bunch and they end up your escorts for the evening."

"I wouldn't say my escorts?"

"As I hear it from some of the staff, you were seen dancing in the gardens with Tiberon."

"Well if you already know so much, why bother asking me anything?" Sarah was somewhat insulted by Arulan's not telling her sooner that there had been talk among the castle.

"I wanted to give you the chance to tell me that it hadn't happened, but I see now that you cannot."

"It was harmless," the mortal insisted.

The elf looked at her as if to say, 'Nothing Tiberon does is harmless,' but the words never came. "I would be leery of wolves who come bearing violets if I were you."

"And count only upon the king for my safety and my salvation?" she asked rhetorically.

"Jareth has only your best interests at heart."

"Jareth has neither interest nor a heart." Sarah regretted her words before they finished falling from her lips and yet, that was the cruel thing about language, it could not be undone. Sure a romantic would tell you that words could be taken back, forgotten, but they would always have been heard, even if they were forgiven.

Arulan rung her hands, "That isn't so. His majesty has a heart, a generous and a kind one at that. I don't know what it is that makes you stay so blind to that fact."

"I can't be like you. I won't. Dote on his every word, fulfill his commands, all the while watching him use his charm on other women, women like Maeve. Charming them with his fancy words, singing to them with his eyes, touching them with such innocence and chivalry, until they melt in his arms fully surprised at having been seduced starting with their minds and ending in their bodies, effectively enticed from the inside out. And that's only the beginning. When he's done with them, he goes on, another pretty face with bedroom eyes and pouty lips, leaving the woman behind foolishly believing that she owns some piece of him, some thing which she knows she cannot keep and only prays he will come back for."

Is that what she had thought? That Arulan was one of Jareth's conquests? Kept conveniently about the castle nonetheless. Torn between defending her own honor and explaining Maeve away, the elf stumbled on her words. "Is that what this is about? Maeve was invited last night."

"Yes, Maeve was invited last night." Even Sarah had to admit to the drawl she used to accent the fey's name.

"Oh dear, I bet she put on quite a show for everyone." The mortal's ears perked with interest. "Fitting herself to Jareth's hip pretending as if she hadn't betrayed him long ago."

"Betrayed him," Sarah asked.

Her lips wanted to explain, but it wasn't their place. "Know this, I have said too much all ready, but what I have said should be enough to comfort you."

"Comfort me? As if I care what women he sees! I'm trying to help you!"

Smiling, Arulan hurried for the door, "Even feelings which we refuse to admit are still felt."

The king lie in his bed, eyes open, but not seeing. His mind jumbled with incongruous thoughts, of Maeve, of Sarah, of Tiberon. All the while he knew they would be leaving for the Eastern sectors come Monday morning. If he had been thinking more clearly, he would have gotten out of the bed and set about to training Sarah on how to use her magic, despite the friction between them from the night before. In fact, he wouldn't mention the previous night at all, he'd only walk into her room and demand that she come outside to work.

Arulan interrupted him, "You invited Maeve to the ball! What were you thinking inviting her?"

"I didn't invite anyone to the ball, if you want to scold someone, go and find Turgomon."

"Well whoever did it, how could you allow it?"

"I didn't even look at the invitation list until the night before the party. I was busy overseeing the final touches on her highness' room." It was early and the king had gone to bed late, this confrontation was not what he was expecting first thing in the morning.

"The two of you! Never have I in all my days seen two people who deserved one another more and yet kept each other at such a distance. Sometimes I wonder if she isn't right, I mean, she's a mortal and being taken from her world..."

"Sarah wished herself here."

"That might be, but still, so far from home, away from everything that seems normal to her, I can almost overlook her stubbornness. To boot, she's only known you for about two weeks out of her whole life whereas you have had the opportunity to watch her grow for over fifteen years. Sarah has no idea that she loves you and from what I see, you don't give her much reason."

Jareth sat straight up in his bed, tossing back the duvet as he cast a spell to simultaneously render himself fully dressed. "Precisely why must it eternally be me to give reason to this child?"

"Because, you codgery old fool, you are the one with the advantage."

"And what makes you think this is all worth my effort?"

"Love, true love, is worth any effort we can give it. You know best what a life without love can bring. Would you be so stupid as to let the only woman you have ever loved walk out of your life again, when for all intents and purposes, she should never have been allowed to walk back in?" Arulan wanted to grab him by his squared shoulders and shake him until he saw things the way she did.

Jareth stood, straightening his garments, he asked, "And are you willing to bet your life and everything you have that the mortal has these feelings for me in return?"

"Aye your majesty," she said earnestly.

"Well I am not." He intended to storm off, leave the room, perhaps go and see what Deverell was up to in his training, but he stopped just shy of the door, "I stand to lose my entire kingdom by admitting my feelings for a mortal child whose only going to be here another five weeks Arulan, you must understand why I can't do it."

"But if you knew, knew for certain that she felt the same way, there are things which could be done. You know it's true. You were willing the last time, willing to risk it all."

"Need I remind you how that turned out." Arulan's head hung. It was a reminder she did not need. "Do not put your hopes so deeply in a mortal woman, they are creatures who are seldom certain of their feelings and much else for that matter." Arulan looked at the door after it slammed shut, watching, waiting for him to return. Though she was a hopeless romantic by nature, her faith in the mortal was more than just wishful thinking. Question was, how to convince the king.

"Draw from your boot. That's it. Now, take the blade between your thumb and forefinger, right, right and aim, good, good, and throw." Deverell listened carefully to Dalkeil's instructions and yet when the cold silver left his hand it ricocheted off the wall and fell to the stone floor below.

"Damn," he said.

In the background Jareth chuckled madly, "Dalkeil, perhaps we should just kill him now and spare him the pain later."

"Sire, I didn't realize you'd be coming today."

"Or you'd have given the boy a larger target that he might impress me again?"

"In his defense, your highness, he's not had much rest and it was only his sixth throw."

With a nod of his head, Jareth retrieved the dagger from the training room floor. As effortlessly as he brushed his blonde locks from his eyes, Jareth nimbly took the blade between his finger tips and set it sailing through the air confident that it would land dead center in the bull's eye. Of course it did. "There you have it boy, something for you to aspire to."

"I'm beginning to wish I hadn't taken this job," he mumbled beneath his breath.

The king's finely tuned ears would have heard him had he merely thunk it, "You are free to leave my service at anytime you feel it necessary."

Boldly Deverell approached the king, "I swore a promise to the Cleric. Try as you might to chase me off, but I won't go. Not everyone runs from you your grace."

"You impress me Deverell," he said nudging his eyebrows. "I say that not so much for my benefit as for yours. I know how much it means to you to hear these words. I only hope what I see in you, the fire I'm impressed by, intimidates our foes. Lord knows, your skills with a dagger won't do it." A firm swat landed the king's left hand on Deverell's shoulder. "Dalkeil, my good man, might I borrow the chap for a bit of my own instruction. I'm leaving with the girl in the morning, he needs to know his way around my office."

"Of course your majesty," Deverell bowed.

Instantly, Jareth transported them to the office. He showed Deverell the ropes, went over what correspondence he should reply to and where everything else should go, what qualified as an emergency and what did not. "Should something come up which you do not feel you can handle, Arulan will know how to reach me. The Triumvirate is requiring the girl to spend a minimum of two days in each sector. Monday and Tuesday we'll be in the Northeast, Wednesday we'll be back at the castle."

"You needn't run home on my account," Deverell said.

The king rose his eyebrows at the young fey, "Yes, well, you're managing without me is not my only concern. The Northeast sector is not a friendly place. I don't wish to expose the mortal to it any longer than is absolutely necessary."

"I see."

"Thursday morning, we'll leave again, this time for the Southeast. We'll not stay more than two days there either. I don't want her with Tiberon any more than she must be."

"I don't know that she would agree with you your grace." Jareth cocked his head to the side, "The lady spent quite a bit of time with the Representative at the ball. Where you to ask me, I would say she rather enjoyed his company."

"I don't believe I asked."

"Yes, your grace."

"Now as I was saying, these are my books. You are welcome to consult any of them. Read them for your own edification if you so desire; however, these," the Goblin King indicated a shelf of leather bound volumes, "are my journals. Neither for your curiosity nor your consultation. You'll find some stationary in the top right drawer of my desk where you can jot down the day's events and when I return I will make the journal entries. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, your grace."

Dressing for the day, Sarah chose something simple, an airy yellow shift dress and sandals. For a minute or more she debated tying the medallion about her neck. She looked herself over in the mirror. It wasn't her nature to want to quarrel with anyone, but Jareth pushed her buttons. Best she not push his back she decided, positioning the black band around her throat. As it always happened, she gasped as it changed form into a long golden chain that made the medallion hang just beneath her breasts. Twisting it between her fingers, Sarah tried to focus on the female energy she had felt when she wore the necklace. What vexed her most was that if it was his mother's energy in the necklace, why did it embrace her now, when the Leanan Sidhe had sent Sarah running from her tomb. Thinking about what Darien had told her, about her looking like the Sidhe, made her pulse quicken. Turning away from the mirror, she let the medallion hit against her chest. A new goal drove her as she tried to forget the similarities between her and the king's mother. Much else had happened in just one night's time and frankly, Jareth had avoided her long enough.

Determination drove every stride as she made her way to his office. A small fist pounded on the heavy wooden door. "Come in," the king pleaded, wanting the noise to stop as he swung open the door for his guest. Stumbling through the door came the mortal. "Can I help you?"

She was about to lay into him when she saw Deverell at his side. "I didn't realize you had company."

Jareth clapped his hands together, "I think we were just about done."

"Yes, your grace," Deverell responded.

"You feel prepared?" He put up a hand to stop the young fey from leaving before he was sure.

Deverell met him square in the eye, "Indeed I do."

The king nodded his permission for the young boy to be excused. Then turning his attention to the girl he asked once more, "Now then, you needed something?"

"I wanted to talk to you about your mother's things." Jareth took a seat on the couch, kicking up his legs and crossing them at the ankle. Before Sarah could continue, his fingers interlaced behind his head. "I must admit, I don't particularly feel comfortable wearing this necklace." For how angry she had been last night and STILL this morning to some degree, even Sarah was impressed by her mature calm. "I don't think I like the idea of being anyone's property."

"Let alone mine?" There he went, setting her off as usual. The king sat forward, "Sarah, that necklace does more than claim you as my property. It will protect you from ne'er do wells who would as soon boil a mortal as shake its hand."

"But by that same token am I not marked for any one who wishes to stake the king?"

"There are far fewer persons in this realm who wish to hold my throne than would take advantage of an opportunity to harm a mortal."

"If that's what you say."

Narrowing on her his eyes grew suspicious, after all she had taken on new acquaintances that were not exactly to his liking. "Have you heard otherwise from your new friend?"

"Who? Tiberon? Really Jareth, you're paranoid. Tiberon has no plans to take over your kingdom."

"Are you certain? Sure it's not on his to do list, right between court mortal and purchase viper for household pet?" When he heard himself, those childish sardonic tones escape him, the king knew he'd sunk to her level.

"Court mortal?"

"Don't act like you don't know. That's what he's intended since you wound up in his sector your first day here."

Rolling her eyes, Sarah continued her inquiry, "Why would he want to do that?"

"Aside from the fact that you are a very beautiful woman?" When she did not reply, he went on, "As I've told you before, Tiberon and I have never gotten along well. Once, long ago, I professed my love for you, the entire kingdom knew this. In his readiness to smite me, Tiberon must believe that I still love you. At the very least he knows that I am responsible for you while you are in the Underground. Either way, to court you would suit him nicely, either a way to attack me personally or my abilities as king."

"Don't you think you're being a bit dramatic? Everyone who was at the ball last night knows why I'm here, knows the Triumvirate themselves asked me to stay. If someone were to try and stop that, try to make you look foolish, don't you think the Triumvirate would have something to say?"

Eyebrows arching high into his forehead, Jareth narrowed his gaze on Sarah, "The Triumvirate does not rule this kingdom. They've said everything they have to on this matter by saying they were leaving it up to me. Do you question my authority?"

"Question it? No. Believe that it may not be at it's best after your little show last night with Maeve? Yes. You did look a bit distracted last night if you ask me." Her arms folded over her chest satisfied at having found an opening through which to retaliate against his crude comments.

"I danced with a woman and you find that somehow equivalent to your shameless flirtation with my Representative."

"Shameless flirtation!"

"Yes, taking violets from him in the garden. Dancing with him in the moon light. Shall I go on?" Embarrassed, she lowered her head. "Not asking my permission to dance with him. Allowing him to hold you so tightly. Maintaining such distinct and prolonged eye contact."

"Enough!" Sarah breathed deeply in and out. It was true. She had done all of those things. What's worse were the thoughts she had, the ideas that he couldn't see that filled her mind while she engaged in all the illicit behavior he could see. "Enough. I admit to being swept up in his charms. I admit to appreciating the fact that someone here felt enough trust in me to make himself emotionally available."

"You were the one who said you only wanted sex," Jareth reminded.

Sarah sat beside him on the couch. With all the sincerity she could muster when rage filled her from head to toe, she clearly stated, "That is not what I said."

"Then what do you want?" The Goblin King looked at her, breathlessly waiting for her reply. Perhaps Arulan's efforts were not in vain. If she would admit to having love in her heart for him, true and honest love, then he would no longer have to hide, no longer have to deny himself.

"I want you to stop treating me like you own me. I want you to let me make my own choices."

Deflated, he looked away, "I don't see whereas I have much to say about it, do I?"

"No, no you don't," she was hesitant, unsure of what she was saying, desperately trying to make it sound as though she meant the words.

"Well then, if you don't mind, I have work that needs doing before this evening's meal, not to mention things to ready for tomorrow's trip." Jareth remained focused on an ambiguous patch of stone in the fireplace, refusing to meet her stare, even if it burned into the back of his skull like a hot poker.

Regretting now, what she had done, how she had upset him, Sarah tried a kinder tone. "We're going on a trip tomorrow?"

"To the Northeast. Tomorrow you begin your work."

"But, I don't know how. I haven't even had a vision in days, maybe I don't have the magic anymore." Her voice shook with every word.

"As long as you believe you have magic, it will be yours to use." The king's eyes fell upon her, "Unlike most things in your mortal world, magic will never abandon you." In her lap, she felt Jareth's hand cover hers. Closing her eyes she let the electricity run through her body. Every joint, every muscle suddenly alive, overflowing with a force she felt unable to control. From all around her there came a soft glow. "You have much magic left indeed. It was my intention to work with you tonight, teach you how to harness what you feel and direct it where it's necessary, but since you don't seem to be able to remain in my company without provoking me..."

"I didn't provoke you," Sarah jumped to the defensive. The Goblin King only raised an eyebrow at her, wordlessly indicating that she had proven his point on his behalf. "I mean, if it's okay with you, I would prefer you teach me the things you had intended to. Magic, after all, is your area of expertise."

"After dinner then. I'll let you decide where you would like to take the lessons."

"Why not our rooms?" He looked at her with a combination of interest and confusion. "We can work until we're exhausted and not have far to crawl to find our beds."

"I believe I've been asked to allow you to make your own choices." Sarah smiled as she left his office. When the door closed behind her Jareth told himself, "I only hope you continue making the correct ones.

Dinner was a solemn affair. Neither Deverell nor Turgomon had much to say with just recently being reprimanded by the king. Dalkeil and Gribbin only looked at the others wondering what had transpired and between whom. Even the opinionated Arulan kept to herself. On the positive side this hurried dinner along which gave Sarah more time to study magic with Jareth. She sat in her room after the meal had ended. Debating what to wear, she stacked a pile of sample clothing near her bureau. The shift she had worn that day, a different dress, a pair of jeans and sweater, night clothes. All before settling on a sweat suit the tailor had made based on a description of such a garment which the mortal had provided. Next she decided where she should be sitting when Jareth arrived, the bed, the couch, a chair, the foot locker or the floor. They all had there merits and their drawbacks, but it was the floor that finally won out. It had been nearly two hours since dinner and no Jareth. Sarah decided to do a bit of stretching while she waited.

The Goblin King entered her room through the door in the wall they shared. He found Sarah on the floor in a rearranged sitting area, having moved the table back and out of her way, she sprawled one leg to either side and bent forward stretching her arms over her head. The sweats she wore exposed her midriff leaving the king with a full view of the small of her back and the top of her well rounded hips. Before clearing his throat he eyed her with approval. At the first sound he made, Sarah popped up from her stretch. Her long hair was tied back in a pony tail, pulled back from her clean fresh face. Jareth hated that she constantly appeared attractive to him. To say the least, it was distracting.

"I see you're ready to begin," he spoke once he was sure he had her attention.

Sarah stood, pulling her sweat shirt down until it met the waistband of her track bottoms. "Uh, huh," she said excitedly. The mortal noticed the king was not in his typical attire. He wore loose fitting beige cotton drawstring pants and a V-neck top that almost looked like a doctor's scrubs, only bone white. Traditionally, gloves covered his hands, white this time. Oddly enough his feet were bare. At the sight of this, Sarah smiled. Partially because she found it humorous and partly because his feet were as extraordinarily long as his fingers.

"Well, we're not running any marathon's so you can take off your shoes." He sat on the floor his back to the couch. "Sit facing me," he instructed. "We'll start with some simple concentration exercises." Jareth crossed his legs, resting his elbows on his thighs and allowing his arms to fall palm side up to the floor. Sarah just watched him, entranced by his comfortable attire and peaceful air. "Like this," he said flopping his hands about. Sarah imitated his positioning. "Now close your eyes." For a moment after her lids fell shut, the king continued watching her. "Listen only to the sound of my voice."

'Not really a problem,' she thought as she tuned out the sound of the night breeze coming through the crack she'd left the window open. Jareth had a pleasant lilting that was easy to listen to. He could have read her the phone book and she'd have sat, listening attentively.

"Magic is about working with nature. Your asking the elements to behave in a way they normally would not. In exchange you give them your appreciation and respect. The minute you fail to do this, nature will turn against you. Men have said that Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and if that is true I know first hand why it is Mother Nature which we call her. Nature is comprised of four basic elements, air, earth, fire and water. As you sit here now, feel the air tickling your palms." In soft wisps the air ran over Sarah's hands. Drumming her palms with her fingertips, she seemingly tried to capture the wind. Jareth's hands fell on hers. "Be still with me." Immediately she was motionless. Chanting something in a language Sarah had never heard, the breeze started to circle her palm, with each concentric circle the intensity grew, until it grew so strong that it glued the back of her hand to the floor and it felt as though she were holding a small funnel cloud in her palm. A breath hitched in her throat, but eyes remained closed. "The wind," Jareth told her, "can be as gentle as a kiss, or as violent as one." The sensation was gone with the sound of his voice and the room quieted again.

"Earth," he continued, "that from which all things thrive. Not just the soil that is used to grow, but the gems that bake beneath its surface, the plants, the rocks which tell its history. This very marble," the king turned her hands palm down against the cool floor, "is a product of the earth. Sometimes earth is reflective, still, watching us almost as closely as we watch it." A few more words in that language only he seemed to know and Sarah felt the earth shake, not just in her palms, but through her whole body. She'd never been to California where the mortal earth shook constantly or so they claimed. This quaking was different, though she could only guess at this, it seemed to not jar her outside as much as it seemed to go through her and make her shudder from the inside out.

"Wish for fire," Jareth told her.

"I...I can't."

"You can. Believe that you can, concentrate on what your asking the elements to do. Picture a fireplace. Picture it lit, feel the heat on your skin." Perhaps it was not so hard after all, for as Sarah listened to his words and followed her commands, she really did feel her skin grow warm. Even her sense of smell joined in as it registered the homey smell of logs ablaze. "Open your eyes."

Shock overcame her when she stared into the flame, a fire which she knew had not been lit when they began this lesson in a fireplace which Jareth's magic had only just built. "Did I do that?"

Jareth shook his head. "Fire can destroy almost anything in its path and yet when treated with respect it can sustain life. A fire cooked our food when we journeyed to the Triumvirate, kept us warm, helped us to dry. You're world revolves around a burning orb. The great phoenix, dies in the flame and then rises up from the ashes."

"It's a contradiction, like the other elements. It can both give and take so drastically as to effect one's very life," Sarah summarized as she watched the flames dance.

"Precisely," the king smiled. She was learning after all.

Lost in his smile, Sarah had forgotten about the fire, forgotten the elements. He had such an amazing grin. As though he were constantly in some state of contriving something either devilish or clever, often both. "Water?" she asked in an effort to remain focused.

"Water," he repeated. "The human body is mostly comprised of water. For the immortals it is not entirely different, although your elemental class can increase or decrease the percentage some. Water is the source of life. Life for the earth and for the air. When the fire first began the air in the room got thick. Air carries water, when heated, the water forms condensation, thus our final element makes itself known. Feel your forehead." Sarah did as she was told and it was moist with perspiration, although she wondered if that was fully from the fire.

"But water would douse a fire," she thought aloud.

"Indeed it would, just as air would fan it. Just as water brings earth new life while fire destroys it. There are equals and opposites in the equation, but when each one is mindful of the others, grateful for what it needs to take and generous with what it needs to give, we achieve a perfect balance. We achieve magic."

Meaning to speak her mouth hung open, her eyes watching his lips form the words, beautiful words that a poet should have written or a bard should have sung and yet he spoke of nothing more than magic which for him was as common as a sneeze. "I see."

"Good," he said rather mechanically. "Then you're ready to get started."

"Are you going to teach me those chants?"

"No Sarah your magic is different than mine. You'll harness it in other ways. Take the fire for example. Your connection with the elements can be called upon. Go on, try. Imagine a huge gust filling your room." Sarah did as she was told, smiling when she heard the flames flapping in the breeze and watching as her duvet fell to the floor.

"What about what I did with the guitar?"

"Playing it? That's a mortal magic. Something most mortals have, but not all are patient enough or believe in themselves enough to develop. It's not elemental at all. I believe your kind call it talent."

"Not playing it, making it." Sarah fashioned her hands as if she were create the instrument from thin air.

"That's elemental, only that type of transformation might require the presence of more than one element at a time or deeper concentration on your part. It is still a very basic spell. It's your visions that intrigue me. I've known seers, although I've never understood what they do. It's a spiritual magic, one I cannot teach you. It may even be that the gift is the result of a connection with another plane, another world."

Wincing, Sarah thought, 'Haven't I enough of those.'

"I can't help you to understand your visions. I can't teach you how to use them, but I would be eager to listen to the tales they've told you, curious to see if there is a pattern to their arrival."

"So you want me to tell you when I get one, what I'm doing just before and what it causes me to see?"

Jareth nodded, "In fact, I'd be curious to go over the visions you've had to date and see if we can find a pattern." Her face grew nervous at the suggestion, aware that it meant disclosing her state of mind the night she spent alone and yet occupied in his bed. As the king often did, he misread her expression and quickly added, "But not tonight. It is late. You are tired and tomorrow will be quite exhausting."

"I rather enjoy seeing your grounds. It's exciting seeing the sectors, all their beauty, all their wonder." Hastily she admitted to these feelings.

"I doubt that you will feel that way about the Northeast. It is the most unpleasant of my lands," Jareth stood, offering a hand to Sarah to help her to do the same. "Extinguish the fire please."

Only half concentrating she pictured the log going out, the embers dying down, smoke rising up the chimney. It took twice as long as the ignition had because of how little she focused. Her mind was awry with other thoughts. If the Northwest had been Jareth's favorite part of the kingdom and it was like paradise, how bad could the Northeast really be? Tomorrow she would see. Tomorrow the Northeast would teach her not to make assumptions.

Awaking in the king sized bed, Sarah stretched out her arms and legs. A reminder of a past night flashed in her mind, another time when all her appendages had been splayed. Quickly she shrugged it off. There was readying to be done, clothing to pack, and by the growl in her stomach, breakfast to be eaten. Cold marble stung her feet, as they escaped the cozy warmth of her bed. Standing before her wardrobe she wondered what she should wear, even contemplated knocking on the adjoining door to ask the king. Rather than seem incapable of making even the simplest decisions on her own, she pulled out a pair of jeans and a button shirt.

Arulan brought breakfast in somewhat surprised to find Sarah up and dressed. "My, but you seem anxious to get going today."

"I wouldn't say anxious, I just don't want to give his majesty the opportunity to harp on me for anything else."

"Then you better change," the elf warned her.

"Why? Are pants inappropriate for women here?"

"As a matter of fact, it is unexpected, unless your riding. My reason for mentioning it though, is the weather is quite warm and humid where you're headed. While the king is fey and can easily adjust his body temperature, you on the other hand, cannot. Trust me when I tell you, you will be far more comfortable in a shift."

"Thank you," the mortal offered weakly, embarrassed that she had allowed herself to misdirect her anger at Arulan, who was now opening the wardrobe and choosing something more appropriate for her to wear. Sarah caught herself picturing the king with his servant. Their two blond mops intermingled as they kissed. She prayed that he was at least good to her if he could not be faithful.

Turning with a smile the elf revealed a lavender shift. "Your hair and skin tones make shades of purple perfect for you, if you don't mind my saying." She held the dress to Sarah's shoulders and tilted her head as she admired the girl. "Yes this one."

Sarah changed openly before her, they had formed a mother-daughter bond that made it seem silly to be embarrassed about such an obvious task. As the cool fresh garment slid over her skin, Sarah thought about how that same bond made everything she had done with Jareth seem dirty. That wasn't fair, it had seemed dirty before, popping into some fantasy world to have a quick fling with a king, but what she suspected between Arulan and Jareth made it seem worse, almost immoral. Yet, as it had been from the moment he first threw open the french doors on her parents' balcony, as it would most likely be until they were torn from each other's lives, the Goblin King, despite her proclamation, had retained some power over her. In the beginning Sarah cursed the permanently pouted lips, the devilish grin that forever seemed to speak what his lips did not, the earth-toned discoloration creating a smile around his eyes which easily captured her attention and held it. He exposed just enough of his physique, either openly revealed or packed in tightly concealed ripples and bulges, to keep one's imagination active, but he was still every bit a king, his square shoulders letting his frock coats hang perfectly, accentuating his tapered waist, making his already extended legs appear longer.

It had to be something more, she hoped. Sarah Williams didn't want to imagine that a purely physical attraction could fill her senses the way the Goblin King had. That would have been superficial and though she could have been accused of being immature even selfish, she wouldn't exactly have said superficial. Maybe if she let her guard down some, he'd let her get to know him. A small part of her hoped she'd learn to think of him like a father; otherwise she wasn't quite sure what she would do with the memory of his kiss when they sent her back Aboveground.

"Sarah, dear, are you alright?" Arulan's soft concern broke her reverie.

"Fine, thank you. I'm fine."

"Eat then, before it goes cold. His majesty will be downstairs waiting. I overheard him telling Turgomon he wanted to leave precisely at eight. I would do your best to be ready by then."

Sarah smiled and nodded appreciatively.

It was 7:56 when the mortal descended the staircase in the main hall. Jareth stopped the discussion he was having with his advisor so he could watch her walk. The shift swayed around her thighs like a petal in the wind. Her hair hung long, over her shoulders, the sides cleared of her face by sections from each temple that she had pulled back and braided, like a natural crown, only more elegant than any precious metal or gem. On a long silver chain which hung between her breasts, the miniature replica of the medallion worn by the king. By the time his eyes made their way to her face, Jareth's jaws were gapping. It seemed her movements happened in slow motion, each step a languid, graceful dance.

When Sarah reached the landing, she rose her head and looked at Turgomon, he smiled at her. She returned his smile prettily before meeting Jareth's gaze. "Ready to go?" she asked him, feeling awkward suddenly with these two sets of eyes on her.

"In a moment. We're waiting on Deverell," he explained.

"Should I wait upstairs?" she asked feeling as if she'd interrupted them.

Turgomon bowed, "Milady, to think I sent you away would pain me greatly, please stay."

Smiling at him sweetly she continued down the second flight of stairs and stood between the two men. Jareth wore his usual garb, grey tights, high boots, an open shirt, a vest and his gloves. Sarah tried to smile at the king, but when she saw him, she saw Maeve and when she saw Maeve, she saw red. Not because of the fey's hair, rather the notion that this woman had once meant something to the king, the same fey that Sarah had these fostering feelings for, ones that were still nameless. "Will Gribbin be bringing the horses around to the front gates?"

Jareth laughed, "Why? Does milady wish to go riding before we leave?"

"No, I just figured we'd be riding to the Northeast."

"Sarah, love, you allowed the Triumvirate to restore my magic. Travel by such means as horseback is unnecessary not to mention untimely for our purposes. We have but two days to spend in Ranofyr's sector."

"Only two days?"

The king raised an eyebrow at her curiosity as he wondered how much of it was disappointment they would not be traveling together as they had on the journey to the Triumvirate. "You will see once we arrive, two days and you will be begging me to transport you home."

"Is it as bad as he makes it sound?" Sarah's attentions turned to Turgomon, hoping that it had not become too obvious the way she was staring into Jareth's eyes.

"I'm afraid it is, but fear not, you're well looked after." The king's assistant looked at his majesty before adding, "Our armies are many and ready at the king's whistle." Jareth thought he saw Sarah's mood set back at this.

"Your majesty," Deverell said when he finally appeared in the main hall.

"You're late."

"My apologizes your grace," the younger fey was well winded, "but this morning's lesson with Dalkeil ran late."

"You've taken a lesson so early?" the king asked in surprised.

"Aye your grace. Dalkeil feels that my hand to hand combat training is best done in the morning in order to get the most benefit for sharpening my senses."

"I suppose he would know best," Jareth concurred. "Nevertheless, the mortal and I must be going I've left a list with Turgomon who will help you get started. Unless something critical occurs, we are not to be disturbed."

"Yes your grace."

Jareth nodded to the two men and then extended an elbow to Sarah. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," She said taking his arm. Transporting was like a warm, furry blanket that surged with energy as it enveloped her. Within seconds she felt the very powerful heat of the blazing sun. Her eyes still closed, Sarah breathed in the air. It was thick with humidity, making her glad she had taken Arulan's advice to change her clothes. Salt scented mist stung her face. It was enough to keep her eyes closed.

"Have a look," Jareth whispered against her ear. Even in the warmth that hung all around her, his closeness and sultry tone gave her a cold shiver. Slowly Sarah opened her eyes, blinking a few times as she adjusted to the light. Before her stood a sight she would have refused to believe if she had come across the knowledge by any other means than her own eyes. Made completely of sand, standing three stories high, with turrets and towers, was a castle. The pink sand rose from the beach and constructed the amazing building. Sarah removed her shoes as it sunk in there was a beach beneath her feet. Between her toes and along her soles the grains were warm like a load of freshly dried laundry. Still in awe she approached the castle door with Jareth close behind. As though she were afraid her touch would melt the fixture, Sarah extended one hand to reach out for the door. Cascading her fingers over the door, it felt grainy, like an emery board, but when she grew brave enough to press at the sand with her finger, she found that it did not give way, as strong as wood or metal.

Sarah continued pressing against the door, "How do you do this?" she asked Jareth, turning to evaluate his response. The entire time her right pointer finger continued to poke at the door.

"How else?" he grinned. "Magic."

The mortal's breath caught in her throat when the substance beneath her finger gave way. She spun around to face a grinning fey in a light muslin robe which hung loosely over his lean body. Auburn eyes looked her over. "How may I help you?"

Sarah stuttered for words feeling increasingly uncomfortable as she stood before the menacing looking Representative. "Ah...I ...er..."

"Ranofyr, tormenting the mortal is a pleasure reserved for me. You were aware of our coming this morning."

"So I was." Sarah noticed the deepness in his voice immediately. Baritone for certain, lower if there was a name for such a tone. "I suppose I should invite you in."

"You could always refuse the visit and send us away."

"Nonsense," Ranofyr chuckled. "Come in, come in." Despite how threatening he appeared, the Representative seemed gracious enough to his guests. "Might I offer you a drink?"

"Just water," Jareth replied. Sarah nodded following his example. Ranofyr materialized two glasses of water, one in each palm and requested, "Follow me." He led them to a sitting room just off the main hall. Setting the glasses down in front of a chaise he invited them to sit. "So you've come to restore my lands?"

Though the Representative had directed his question to the mortal, Jareth interrupted with a reply before Sarah could part her lips. "They're my lands Ranofyr, let's not forget that."

"Begging your pardon, your lands then." He said it with great distaste and what Sarah was very afraid was hatred. By now even Tiberon would have addressed him as his majesty or king, some evidence of respect, but not this Representative, not Ranofyr. Sarah moved closer to the king on the settee.

"I've brought the girl as the Triumvirate instructed me to do, so that her presence could restore the lands here. If you wish to refuse, you may. Otherwise you are to accommodate us until the morning after tomorrow at which time we will humbly take our leave." Jareth handled him with kid glove care, saying just the right words with just the right authority in them so as not to offend or seem aggressive. He knew Ranofyr was an unpleasant fey, bitter and barren as his surroundings.

"It's not that I don't want you to visit you understand. It is, after all, a great honor to have both the king and the legend here in my sector. Only thing is, and I hate to seem ungrateful," he laughed menacingly, "we have all gotten rather used to the way things are here. Why mess with a situation that pleases the majority? Surely you understand."

"Yes," the king let the word roll of his tongue as he narrowed an eye on Ranofyr. He pressed himself forward and began to stand, "We'll just be on our way then."

"No, please. I do so wish you would stay."

"For what purpose?" Jareth asked with suspicion.

"Jareth, you hurt me when you think me less than forthright."

"I rather would have thought you'd find such a thing complimentary."

"Touche old man. But I speak in earnest when I beseech you to stay. Have a stroll around. See what I've done with the place. What harm is there in that? Consider it a vacation." Leaning back, Ranofyr smiled, knowing full well that unless he told them to go they could not.

Jareth held a smug, stiff chin. "Very well then. Where shall we begin?"

"No hurry. You've two days after all. Why not tour the castle until lunch, then perhaps the cliffs until dinner and a nice stroll on the beach to help settle the meal. Tomorrow we can boat out to Man Island. Before you know it you'll be begging me to stay."

Again it was the mortal he focused on, but Jareth who replied. "I'm a king Ranofyr, I do not beg."

"Must you take everything so literally?"

"It is the nature of our being, words were given meaning for a reason and I choose to respect that."

"Bother. Sarah you've been very quiet."

Words refused to come to her, even the small single syllable ones. She reached for the water and sipped at it. "There so much to take in," she said as she looked around the chamber of the giant sand castle. An overwhelming sense of uneasiness swept through her. She'd hoped as much as Jareth had they would be dismissed, refused. Obviously that was not to be the case.

"More than you know, love."

"You will address her with respect." Jareth's abruptness caused the Representative to snap his head around and hold the king's intense stare. "In her world they are given names. You will use it to call her by or when speaking to her at all times. Otherwise you may address her through me. The choice is yours."

"Touchy, touchy, touchy, Jareth. Why if I didn't know that you knew better, I might suspect you'd never gotten over Sarah." When he smiled this time he showed his teeth. Not only did they have the distinguishing unevenness of Jareth's but they came to points in his mouth, as if they'd been filed into tiny daggers. Sarah looked away, focused on something on the table between them rather than stare.

"Ranofyr, I am still your king," to keep from strangling the fey, Jareth worked at his gloves tightening them over his fingers, hiking them up his arms, "your tone with me alone would be enough for me to drag you before the Triumvirate."

He returned the threat with one of his own. "Your sympathy to the mortal would be enough for me to do the same." Quizzically he cocked his head waiting for the reply.

"The Triumvirate has requested my patience with the girl. My treatment of her is their direct order. Now, on with this tour of your hovel, that is unless you've changed your mind about refusing us."

"Not at all your majesty."

The tour began from one of the turrets, from which Sarah could easily see the king's castle. She began wishing that she were back there but stopped when she remembered how much power her wishing things had in the Underground. The Labyrinth spread out before her covering hundreds of acres and yet seeming so simple and easy to negotiate from this height. When it was time to move on, Jareth actually had to take her arm and tug her away. The third floor was comprised of four bedrooms and two baths. Ranofyr explained how he had yet to take himself a wife because he had yet to find someone that enjoyed the same kinds of non-traditional things he did. Sarah felt her face react when he added, "I hear Maeve's back on the market, perhaps I should give her a call."

'Please do,' the Goblin King wanted to say, but he thought it best to show no interest in the subject.

The second floor was comprised of a library, an office and a sitting room with a fireplace. Sarah marveled at the number of books inside the library. Ranofyr didn't seem like the most educated fey she had met here, that he would so enjoy literature surprised her greatly. Back on the ground floor, they were shown the kitchen, the dining hall, the music room and the courtyard. The orchard trees were all black and mangled, starved of water by the dry desert sand and incredibly challenged by the atmospheric lack of rain.

"I have saved the best for last. I think you will find what I have done to the basement to be both awe inspiring as well as creative." At the bottom of the stone stairs which took them to the basement, Ranofyr pulled open a huge metal door. The first thing Sarah had seen that was not completely formed from sand. "Go on, take a look inside."

Tentatively, Sarah peeked inside. She fought back the nausea that bounced about in her stomach and looked away as fast as she could tear her eyes away. Chains hung from the wall. A rack stretched across the expansive core of the floor. In the corner a crude model of a guillotine, the blade had been stained darkly in a semicircle. Jareth ran to the opened door, looked in and then slammed it closed. "This is what you consider creative?" he asked Ranofyr.

"What would you call it?"

"Sick!"

"But some of the inhabitants enjoy coming here to play with my toys. Not to mention the parties we've had," he sneered merrily.

"Never discuss this room or the goings on inside it with me again. What you and your sector's inhabitants engage in under consensual obligation is little of my concern, but if word so much as drifts to me on the wind of what you use this room for I'll have you exiled and replaced."

A protective arm thrown around Sarah's shoulder guided her as he marched them back upstairs allowing her to catch her breath. At length she asked weakly, "Why would anyone want..."

"I do not know Sarah and perhaps it would be best if we didn't think about it.

Shortly after the mortal was composed they were guided to the dining room for lunch. Sarah only nibbled at what had been set before her. Jareth pushed his food around the plate, eager for these two days to come and go. "So, how is old Maeve?" Ranofyr asked breaking the silence.

Sarah shoved a carrot in her mouth to keep from adding her two cents in. "Fine," Jareth commented, his eyes cast down.

"Fine, is that all you can tell me?"

"'Fraid so," he replied curtly.

The Representative continued his relentless pursuits, " She spent all her time with you at the ball. None of the rest of us could get near her all night."

"'Fraid so," he replied curtly.

Glancing at the mortal who grew increasingly uncomfortable with the topic at hand he asked, "And you Sarah, how did you like Maeve? I'm curious for another woman's opinion." Ranofyr's eyebrows arched as he awaited her reply.

"I can't honestly say as I spent much time with her." It was the truth, an answer Jareth was pleased to see Sarah had the tact to provide.

"Surely you were able to form some opinion of her. Maeve is far from shy. She must of made herself noticeable to you some how."

Slamming down her fork Sarah looked up, noticed that her act had gotten the attention of the men at the table and calmly said, "You know Ranofyr, I just can't seem to keep my appetite what with all the talk you did earlier of these cliffs we have to explore."

"Right," the Representative cooed. "Well, then I'll have the servants tend to this and we'll be off."

Though his face remained like stone, the Goblin King smiled inside at the maturity the mortal displayed in handling Ranofyr's blatant attempt to infuriate her. She had learned something after all.

A narrow winding path led up the cliff side forcing them to walk single file. Ranofyr led and Jareth stayed behind, allowing Sarah the protection of being positioned between them. They were the strangest cliffs Sarah had ever seen for they didn't jut out from a mountainside. They stood freely, one side white, bleached from the salt water, the other side black, like coal. Bravely, Sarah walked to the edge and looked over. She never much feared heights, besides the scene below was fascinating, watching the waves break and crash against the shore. 'Nature is truly a powerful force,' she thought.

"Welcome to the home of the Bean Sidhe, sister of Leanan Sidhe, commonly referred to both Above and Underground as Banshee. We've got a whole collection of them in these cliffs, some appear as a young woman, others a stately mother figure and some still, twisted old hags, but each with one purpose. Once regarded as goddess of war and death, they glide about these cliffs wearing their grey hooded cloak and winding their boneless bodies as their howls ring through the stone so loud, so low, so foreboding that the Supreme One himself feels the hair on his neck rise on edge. Not a creature alive, mortal or immortal, can claim ignorance to her omen."

Sarah had heard the story of the Banshee. Her cry was a warning of impending death. Suddenly she regretted showing such an interest in coming here. "This is their home, those things, live here?"

"They do. And if I were you, I wouldn't be calling them 'those things'. They are sensitive and vengeful lot."

"Don't go scaring her Ranofyr," Jareth boomed.

"Come now, you ought to know your mother's cousins better than any of us. How resentful can the Leanan Sidhe be when she is not respected?"

"Moot point."

"I'd like to head back to the castle now if you please." Sarah interrupted the argument with her request. "I'd like to have time to clean up before dinner. I feel completely covered in sea spray."

"Yes, well, by all means, I won't have my guests feeling uncomfortable." They doubled back the trail they'd taken to get to the cliffs in the first place.

Sarah sunk into a tub of hot water, letting the grit liquefy and melt away from her tender skin. Thoughts of the banshee were still fresh in her mind as she closed her eyes. It was Maeve's face she saw on one of the howling ghosts, only rather than an ambiguous cry, Maeve called her name. The mortal shrieked, fearing it was a vision. Jareth came bursting into the bath. Sarah gasped at the intrusion, covering herself with her hands.

"Are you alright?" he practically shouted at her.

"Fine, I just fell asleep and forgot where I was." She wouldn't admit to the weakness of being frightened by a nightmare. "When I woke up I gave myself a start."

Looking around the room skeptically, he conceded, for he had seen nothing else in there with her, certainly he hadn't seen what she had. "I suppose that's possible," he said raising his eyebrow at her. Seeing her naked in the water pleased him and had they not been here in Ranofyr's home, he'd have pulled a chair to the tub's side and offered his assistance in washing her back. But they were where they were and there was no sense in jeopardizing himself by showing genuine interest in his mortal here. He turned hesitantly and left, closing the door behind him.

As Sarah finished her bath, she thought about the wavering she'd seen on his face. Wondering if it was out of long for his Maeve that he looked her over, or perhaps it stirred a memory of Arulan's baths and he was feeling home sick. Angry she stood and dried herself. They had packed nothing for the trip. Using her magic, which she assumed Jareth expected of her, Sarah changed the lavender shift into a simple black dress. This place made her feel morbid, remorseful, as if she should be wrapped in some dark, drab, lifeless color. In compliment, the necklace transformed into it's original embroidered wrap.

Making her way to the staircase, she joined the gentlemen who awaited her. As they walked to the dining room, Ranofyr complimented her appearance, "More ravishing than I have ever seen Maeve."

"Even when it's a hidden compliment, mortal woman find it trite at best, being compared to other woman." It was a lie, an obvious one by the grin though which she'd spoken it. Sarah very much enjoyed hearing that she was more beautiful than Jareth's former love.

"What's for dinner?" the king offered as a means to change the topic.

"Lamb," Ranofyr replied. "Sacrificial lamb." He was the only one who chuckled at the poor excuse for a joke.

What was served to them was beyond rare, it was raw. Not even the edges of the meat had been braised. Naturally, this did not phase the fey, for both of them had a primal hunter's palate. Sarah, on the other hand, ate around the medallions, cringing every now and the when the blood would sour the taste of the vegetables or potatoes onto which it had spilled. Three glasses of mead were spent trying to wash the taste from her mouth.

When the meal had ended, Jareth rose and approached the mortal, "You will enjoy the sight of the beach by night. Perhaps the first thing you will enjoy since I've brought you here," he scowled at the Representative who had ordered seconds from the kitchen. "Would you care to join me?"

'Well I'm not staying here,' she thought. Rather than announce her true feelings, she graciously took Jareth's offered arm and excused herself from Ranofyr's company.

Outside the moon shone over the water making it seem dark and slippery like black ice only filled with movement, waves and ripples, that the stillness of ice could never allow. The heat had left the top layer of the sand. At a point, not far from the cliffs, Jareth stilled himself and with a sadness Sarah had never seen tarnish his face before, shy once, looked out into the sea. Nervously, she dug her toes into the sand feeling as if she were intruding on a moment he should have been having alone. Thinking that he was lost in a memory of his mother, she tried to look away, tried to keep her own tears from forming, tried not to feel so hateful that he wouldn't talk to her about these things. Deeper beneath the grains that they had been plodding over the sand was still hot, like stored sun light. Sarah sat upon the exposed grains and allowed the warmth to comfort her. It seemed as though she had her knees hugged to her chin for an hour or more before the Goblin King remembered he had asked her to join him.

"This really used to be a lovely place. The water would turn opaque and navy beneath the moon. The sand was pink, the cliffs green." A gloved hand reached down to her. She accepted it. He held her hand loosely in his own as she followed his wide strides with her tiny steps. "Look there," he told her, pointing out to what appeared to be an island in the middle of the sea. A light house rose high above the horizon, only no beacon lit the way for the ships. Just the white chipped paint of the tower, casting back the moonlight enough to make it's silhouette stand out prominently against the night sky. "That was called Man Island. All the mortals who failed my Labyrinth were sent there. It wasn't so much a punishment. The island is...was," he corrected himself, "a lush paradise. The only pain they knew was the loss of their home and family. Many of them eventually overcame the loss and went on to form new lives, new families with other mortals."

"Is that where I'd have gone if I had failed to," what was she supposed to say. Conquer you? Defeat you? "Complete the Labyrinth?" she decided.

"No," he admitted sullenly. "I wouldn't have let you go there. Not because it wasn't suitable, but because I would have kept you for my queen."

Moved by his confession, Sarah looked up at him, the white of his eyes even brighter in the moonlight, "Do you suppose they're still there? The mortals."

"Who knows what Ranofyr has done. I was afraid to bring you here. Afraid of what Ranofyr had done while I was ignoring everything but my own selfishness, afraid that this would turn out to be what it is, a sick and depraved land where nothing joyful lives"

"Everything is comprised of good and evil, Jareth. Even me. What would the Northwest sector be without the Northeast to combat it? Perhaps it's a good idea that Ranofyr has made what he's made here. A haven for all things maniacal. That way they don't go mucking up everything else that's good and beautiful."

"Is there nothing you can't find the good in?" he asked her in genuine wonderment.

"There are a few things," she admitted, Maeve being at the head of the list. Sarah rapidly ran her palms over her arms, chilled in the night air. The king removed his coat and slid it over her shoulders. When Jareth took a seat upon the sand and watched the water lap the shore, his mortal joined him by nestling between his knees resting back against him. Sleep claimed her shortly after she had gotten comfortable. For awhile he alternated between watching her and watching the waves, but eventually sleep claimed him too.

Shortly before three in the morning, Sarah awoke to a hideous caterwauling that came from the cliffs. When she realized she had fallen asleep in Jareth's arms, his coat around her like a blanket, she managed to calm herself enough to look around before screaming. The cliffs were littered with faintly glowing, gliding streaks of sickening green. Her small hand reached for Jareth's chest, shaking him gently she called his name.

"I see," he told her when he woke. "The Sidhe only howl at night. It was irresponsible for me to let you fall asleep out here. We'll go back to the castle." They stood. Sarah began to run briskly in the thin crack of moonlight that remained. "Sarah don't," the king told her calmly. She turned to ask him to repeat himself and stumbled over a piece of drift wood in the sand. From the cliffs a single green light sped through the sky, howling the entire way. She saw its wretched face drawn out in pain as it hovered over her. Jareth mumbled something in his language and the woman turned, peered at him and sped away. He took the mortal's hand, helped her to her feet and dusted her off. "You must never run from anything immortal, Sarah. It makes them very angry."

"Well that explains the last fifteen years."

Jareth smiled. Even in the dark, she could see his white teeth revealed by his parting lips. She smiled back. Maybe the king had used some magic, but she didn't hear the howling coming from the cliffs anymore. She only heard the surf beside them as she let him lead her back to the castle in comfortable silence.

The king and his mortal slept through breakfast and Ranofyr let them. They had brunch instead, which suited him even better. One of his staff had the boat readied and the late meal meant they would have more time to spend on Man Island now. This pleased Ranofyr. Once they'd eaten, the Representative took them to the boat and graciously helped the mortal aboard. Next he got on and then looked foolishly at Jareth as if he had chosen to leave himself to board last.

The waters were relatively calm although they seemed to pound strongly against the small wooden craft tossing it about. White knuckled Sarah clung to the side of the vessel finding the nearing island more and more to her liking. As they made contact with the rocky shores of Man Island, a huge creature with only one arm, one leg and one eye stood nearly ten feet tall seemingly waiting for them.

"The Fachan!" Jareth cried.

"Indeed," Ranofyr replied, "I've domesticated him in a way. He'll guide the boat ashore to keep us from shattering into pieces along the rocks."

"Lovely," Jareth snorted.

"What's a Fachan?" Sarah asked.

The king looked at her and back to the Representative who only snickered. "The Fachan were guards who once lived on Man Island. They made certain the mortals could not escape."

"They feasted on them." Ranofyr's eyes sparkled as he revealed this fact to Sarah. Her eyes pleaded with the king to tell her it wasn't true.

"Only the ones who tried to escape," as if that justified it.

"Don't. Just don't tell me anymore." The king looked at the Representative with daggers in his eyes, daggers made of iron. Ranofyr only smiled more broadly.

The burly giant hopped into the sea where it swam with amazing ease and speed. With his arm he dragged the boat ashore and one by one the crew stepped onto the island. The sand was sharp and rocky. Sarah left her sandals on. The lush paradise that Jareth had described the night before had vanished leaving behind desolation in its wake. "This way," Ranofyr instructed. A way down the beach there was a clan of mermaids. All sitting in the shallow water brushing each other's hair. One in particular singing as her hair was brushed. She herself worked on no one's locks, merely sang, a haunting tune, but a lovely one that echoed although Sarah couldn't guess off what. She had silver edged blue scales on her lower half and thick blonde hair which cascaded to the small of her back meeting the scales, hiding her breasts, highlighting her wide blue eyes. "That's Lorelei."

Sarah looked at him as if to ask, 'Why is that important?'

"Lorelei distracts ship's captains with her beauty and her song, until they are so distracted them that they crash their ship upon the rocks."

"Well shouldn't the lighthouse warn them?" Sarah protested.

"I disabled that thing years ago," he chuckled. Lorelei flapped her tail at him as if to wave. At the end of the chain of mermaids was a withered woman whose hair no one brushed. She looked ragged and unkempt, her hair far shorter and less preened than the others.

"That one on the end. What's her story?" Sarah asked.

"What makes you think she has a story?" Jareth countered.

"Everything has a story," she told him before settling her curious eyes on Ranofyr.

"That's Squant. She fell in love with a land giant who would sit on the beach and lean against the lighthouse. His pipe puffed white clouds over the water. One day she lured him to the water's edge and wrapped her hair around him. As she did he fell into a deep sleep and she was never able to wake him. Squant cut her hair until she was almost completely bald, but for a few tufts that popped out in every direction. Kind of like yours Jareth." He laughed, but he was the only one.

"What became of the giant?" Sarah inquired.

"You can still see him when the tide goes out."

The mortal cringed. The king scowled. The Representative kept walking. Just beyond where the mermaids sat they could see the shattered remains of ships who failed to fear Lorelei's song. In silence they continued following their tour guide for what seemed an impossibly long while until they came to an open beach. On some rocks that jutted into the water seals basked in the day's sun. On the beach, Sarah saw what looked like nude mortals frolicking and playing. As she approached, she quickly attracted their attention. What shocked her more, she couldn't say. The fact that mortals remained here or the idea that they were all nude. "Are those.."

"Go on. Have some fun with your own kind. The king and I'll be just over in that cove having a stem. Enjoy yourself milady." He bowed to her. "Come Jareth, you'll be able to see her from over there." Begrudgingly he followed the Representative. Settled into the cove, Ranofyr handed him a stem and the two men lit up. They discussed the matters of this sector. The changes the Representative had made and the idea that Sarah had pointed out to him the night before about bad things needing a home too. It was all rather amicable to Jareth's surprise.

Meanwhile, the mortals played volleyball on the beach. Sarah had grown oblivious to the fact they wore no clothes. She laughed and talked until the sun sunk low in the sky. They lit a bonfire and they danced. Jareth watched her from the cove. Half jealous that she seamed to be having so much fun and half thankful that this had not been as appalling an experience for her as the mainland had been.

When the rhythm of the music they played hit Ranofyr's ears he drifted into dream. Jareth left his side to join the mortal. The others seemed rather bothered by his presence. "Perhaps you should join us," the king suggested.

"Don't be silly. They're just a bit frightened because, well, you are the one who sent them here."

Her statement forced him to think. Yes, he would have been the one to send them. So then why didn't he recognize any of them? "Have it your way," he told her as he walked off. The thought of not recognizing the faces of the mortals on the shore bothered him profusely. Jareth strolled through and over the rocks of the cove. Something slick and shiny caught his attention, more grey than black, it was easily distinguishable from the rocks. His gloved hand reached down to grasp the item. It was soft, with a short but euphonious pelt. Glancing once more toward his mortal he saw one of the males sling an arm about the girl. Sarah seemed no the more put out by his affection. They chatted and chuckled. In a moment, he began to close in on the mortal, making her visibly uncomfortable, making Jareth furious.

As the king's hand clenched into a fist, he realized, it was a seal skin he had been holding. Those weren't mortals at all. They were the Selkie folk. The seals that could come ashore, shed their skins and frolic in the form of a human. When humans crossed their paths they seduced them, impregnating them or becoming impregnated with their shape shifting offspring. Often this took the life of the mortal host subject to the impregnating. With great purpose, Jareth made his way to the sleeping Ranofyr. "Sarah!" he called out onto the beach. "Sarah!" The mortal began walking toward him, a quizzical, but relieved expression on her face.

The Representative stirred, "What's the commotion?"

Hitting him square in the face, the skin was cold, wet and stunk of fish. "This! Those aren't the mortals I sent here. Those are Selkie. You sent my mortal to the Selkie!"

"The what?" Sarah asked now in ear shot.

"I'll explain later." By now the king's booming shouts had reached the shores where the selkie danced and they scurried about finding their skins and making a bee line for the sea. Sarah watched in horror. "You will take us back to the castle immediately. At dawn's light in fulfillment of the Triumvirate's orders we will leave your land. Do what you want with the depravity you've collected here, but keep me and my mortal out of it."

A timid naked female stood just behind and to Jareth's right, quivering, wanting to asked for her skin, but obviously quite thrown by the king's outburst. Ranofyr through the pelt to her and she scurried away. "Fine by me!" he shouted back offended at the king's words.

They boarded the boat to sail back to the mainland. A mighty shove from the Fachan and they were bouncing about the cresting waves once more. Sarah and Jareth remained at the back of the boat while Ranofyr took the helm.

"What are Selkie?" she asked. Jareth answered her honestly, hating to see the regret in her eyes for being fooled by them. "Then where are all the humans Jareth?"

"Ranofyr has probably used them to 'domesticate' the Fachan." She looked at him with squinted eyes that didn't understand how that could be. "If you want to train a dog what do you do?"

"Give him a treat when he does as he's told." Jareth just looked at her waiting for the recognition to sink in on it's own. "That's awful, that's inhuman."

"That's Ranofyr."

In the morning they stood on the castle steps, Sarah's arm fed protectively through Jareth's. The king and the Representative said their goodbyes. Then Ranofyr took up Sarah's hand, kissing the back of it and offering, "You're as lovely as the tales about the legend have told. Thank you for coming to visit me."

"And you," she reciprocated, "are as wicked as the creatures that you harbor here. If I can say nothing else it is that you are well suited to be a representative for this sector." She really could find the good in anything.


	26. Chapter 25

**CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE - VISITING THE SOUTHEASTERN SECTOR**

Wednesday at the castle was quiet. Deverell went back into training now that Jareth was home to contend with the matters of the kingdom. Sarah spent the day with some books she'd taken from the library, books on types of Sidhe. Arulan had peeked in on her once or twice and tried to ask about her days in the Northeast, but Sarah only said repeatedly, "I'd prefer not to think about it." Arulan put a halt to her interrogation before it caused any argument. "Do you think his majesty will allow me some time with Hoggle when we go to the southeast," Sarah asked the elf when she brought lunch to the mortal, a request Sarah had made herself.

"I'm sure he's figured that into the visit." She tried to be reassuring, but in truth, the king had most probably not considered scheduling a visit with the dwarf. Arulan made a note to discuss just that with the king once Sarah was settled.

"He doesn't like Hoggle very much I'm afraid."

"The king does not always match his actions to his feelings." Arulan began backing out as Sarah settled into the rocking chair for her meal. "You're coming down for dinner this evening, yes?" Shrugging, Sarah thought about it briefly. She was still more than a little effected by the frequency with which Maeve's name had come up while they were visiting with Ranofyr. "I hope you will. Dinner is so much nicer with another woman around." Smiling lovingly she ducked out of the room. When she reached the dining room she found Jareth at the table. "Your majesty, I was curious. You're taking the mortal to the Southeast tomorrow, correct?"

"She's not coming down for lunch?"

"No, but she'll be down for dinner."

"Humphf!"

"Your majesty, tomorrow, you are going to the Southeast, correct?" He shook his head. "And you have scheduled some time for Sarah to spend with Hoggle haven't you?"

"Why would I do that? Besides, it's not up to me to do the scheduling. We're at the mercy of what Tiberon wants for his sector." Tiberon, the name echoed in his head. An idea farming there that he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of earlier. "Arulan, you're right. Seeing Hedge Hog and his wife would be very important to Sarah. I am still king at the heart of the matter and Tiberon only has so much to say about our visit. I'll head to the gates after lunch and see if the dwarf will agree to allow us to stay at his home while we're in the sector."

Arulan smiled, pleased the king had come to this conclusion. Coyly she asked, "What and not stay at the castle?"

"No. Castles don't mean much to Sarah. It would mean far more for her to have the time to spend with Hobble and his family." The king inhaled the rest of his lunch while carrying on polite conversation with the elf. She mentioned Maeve's name and their talk took a turn for the worse. "I won't have her talked about as though she were some sort of phenomenon. Ranofyr already did plenty of talking about her in front of Sarah yesterday and the girl was on edge before we even left for his sand castle in the middle of hell."

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad," she said sipping some tea.

Jareth's gloved hands slammed down on the table. "He's domesticated the Fachan, disabled the lighthouse and sent Sarah off to play volleyball with a clan of Selkie."

Arulan choked on her tea, "You're kid..." Never mind, the king doesn't kid. "What did you do to put a stop to it?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" This surprised her.

"Sarah convinced me that it was better to give the dregs a place to call their own as it might cause less havoc than forcing them to look for other places to cause trouble."

Her eyebrows rose as she dove back into her teacup, "Wise girl isn't she?"

"I'm going to the gates to speak to the twerp."

"Dwarf."

"You say it your way, I say it mine." That said he was gone, vanished into thin air.

Sarah decided she would come down to dinner after all. When she arrived at the table, only Arulan and Dalkeil were seated. "Where's the king?" she asked the elf softly.

"I'm not sure," she replied, hoping her knowing eyes would not deceive her. As he'd said at lunch he was off to see Hoggle to make the arrangements necessary for their stay.

Dalkeil chimed in, "Deverell will be with us as soon as he's cleaned up. As part of his training I had him work with Gribbin hopping it would put some muscle on the boy."

"Can anyone account for Turgomon while we're at it?" Arulan asked. No one replied.

One of the other elves came from the kitchen with a tray of salads in her arms. "The king said not to wait for him," she announced, placing a salad at each setting.

Deverell and Turgomon stumbled in together as the main course was served. When the men were asking for seconds, Jareth took his seat at the head of the table. He was served his plate and dove in readily. "Sarah," he said at some length, "I wanted to ask you something about our trip tomorrow." She looked at him, suddenly interested in the conversation at the table for the first time.

"What was that?"

"I talked to that little dwarf you're friendly with and he said it would be alright if we stayed with him while we were in the Southeast sector." With pride that he had managed to avoid Tiberon's castle, Jareth smiled broadly.

Had they not been sitting at the table with all the other members of the household, she'd have jumped up, thrown her arms around his neck and thanked him, instead she just said, "That'd be nice," from between lips that were parted in a wide grin. She couldn't wait until they left. Arulan used her napkin to cover the smile she seemed unable to avoid.

Once in high school Sarah had experienced this kind of random insomnia, the night before some production, maybe it was sophomore year when they did Guys and Dolls, no, junior year when they did Pajama Game. Her father and Karen sent her to bed early, they wanted her to be fresh and ready for opening night the next day. She milled about her room trying to keep her mind off the show, but it was no use. Before she knew it she'd read four hundred pages of Les Miserables. Oddly enough now, when she remembered that, it seemed to be a premonition of things to come. Regardless, it had been the first night she'd watched the sun come up. At seventeen, it didn't really have much mystery, nothing near as amazing as it was watching the sun come up over the Underground.

While she could easily recall these obscure moments from her past, she couldn't possible place her finger on the source of the butterflies in her stomach. Was it getting to see Hoggle again or having to see Tiberon after what had transpired between them at the ball? But what really transpired between them that night? A few harmless flirtations, a dance or two, a shower of compliments, a simple violet. Nothing of any real significance, not that she could see. Trying to put a name to it made her drowsy. Sarah jumped when Jareth knocked on their adjoining door. "Ah, come in," she called wiping the sleep from her eyes.

"Are you nearly ready?"

"Ready? I didn't think we would leave until after breakfast."

"We're having breakfast with your friends. Drema's rather looking forward to it," the Goblin King started to leave, "but if you don't want to, I can go and tell them your not intere..."

Sarah jumped up out of her bed, the cold floor stinging her bare feet, but she couldn't have cared. Throwing open the wardrobe she cried, "No, no, don't do that. I'll be ready in fifteen minutes."

"I'll expect you down stairs in twelve." He disappeared, probably gone to wait downstairs.

She chose a floral shift from the rack, one that had a beige background and small blue and yellow flowers on it. She spent a few minutes looking for her shoes while she brushed her hair free of knots. When they refused to appear before her eyes, she wished them there. Magic had a way of making things work out. Stepping into the flimsy leather soles held to her feet by a few straps and beads, Sarah's fingers worked fast to plait her locks into a loose French braid. Like an anxious child on their first day of school she came bounding down the stairs eager to burst through the door and explore the new world waiting for her.

Jareth looked up when she hit the landing. It occurred to him that her face was free of her sometimes wild mane and available for full viewing. He usually loved to watch the ebony strands framing her olive skin, but pulled back she took on a whole new look, one that was innocent, demure, classic. "You're early," he noted one elegant eyebrow arched.

"Really," she smiled. "I hadn't noticed." It was her attempted at being playful. She had seen that side of Jareth coming out when they were in the Northeast alone on the beach. It was the first time since they were traveling back from the mountains. She liked it. She missed it. "No big send off? Where are Deverell and Turgomon?"

"Still asleep I imagine."

"Arulan?"

"Gone for her morning walk."

"Oh."

"Am I not a large enough welcoming committee for you?"

"You'll do," she winked at him. Sarah accepted his extended elbow and prepared for the warm tingling sensation she at least knew to expect now. In an instant they were both standing in Hoggle's kitchen, shrunk to size as was necessary when visiting them. Seeing Jareth near Hoggle's size amused her, even if it took a minute's getting used to. "Hog..."

Before she could even finish the second syllable of his name she was pounced upon by her namesake, "Sarahhhhhhhh Twoooooooo!" the wee one cried as her small feet pounded over the earthen floor, buckling her knees and launching herself into the mortals waiting arms. Sarah swung her around covering her tiny face with kisses. The king only looked on, part feeling misplaced among this touching family moment, part jealous that he had never received such a welcome from anyone in all his days. "Sarah, I thought I might never see you again."

"Don't be silly, I told you I'd be back."

The child's eyes grew serious, her little brows furrowing in a tight knit. "I not sil...ly." She spoke the adjective with painstaking slowness, her pronunciation fastidious.

"When did you learn your l's?"

Blushing, she shrugged, not positive exactly when it happened. Sarah One, no longer focused on the return of the other Sarah, took notice of the Goblin King. She scuttled down the length of the mortal, clinging to her leg, hiding her round, pink cheeks behind Sarah's skirt. "Sarah Two, is that the king?

Fighting back the urge to laugh, she smiled broadly. "Yes, honey, that's Jareth the Goblin King." The tiny girl quaked. Drema and Hoggle looked on, not sure Jareth would want to be bothered with a dwarf child. "What are you waiting for?" Sarah asked him. "Bend down to her level and talk to her like you would anyone else, well not like you would anyone, but just talk to her. You've had how many children in this kingdom, you must have learned something about how to communicate with them."

Drema was about to step forward and remove her daughter from the situation. Hoggle put up his hand to stop her. The king stooped down resting his elbows on his knees. "Lady Sarah, it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance." His huge gloved hand with the long leather encased fingers extended towards her. With an expected amount of hesitation she looked at it, just looked. Panned her head from his hand to Sarah Two's watchful eyes in search of guidance.

"Go on," the mortal told her, give him your hand.

Sarah One reached out her tiny fingers, still holding the mortal's leg for safety. Curling over Jareth's first two fingers, the king lifted the tiny hand to his lips and softly brushed them against the back of her hand His golden locks fell forward and swept over her skin. She giggled like crazy, leaving her hiding spot to run over to her mother squealing as she went, "He tickles mommy, the Goblin King tickles."

Charmed by the exchange, Sarah Two smiled coyly and looked away. Hoggle watched from his wife's side, mouth hanging open, stunned at what he had witnessed. "That's PR if I've ever heard it." Jareth said rising to his feet. "Beware ye who plan to invade the Underground, the Goblin King tickles." He drew his hands across the air before him as if he had read the headline from some invisible sign.

"Well it does tickle," Sarah said, her right hand smoothing a section of his hair against his grey frock coat.

"Ahem," Hoggle coughed. "Might as well sit down. Breakfast will be ready in a minute."

Both Jareth and Hoggle reached for the head chair. "Habit," Jareth told him when the dwarf looked up at him with a stony gaze. Instead he sat to the dwarf's right, next to Sarah Two, across from Drema. Sarah One beside her mother where she could keep an eye on the mortal and the king. Setting huge platters on the table, Drema presented eggs, bacon, and pancakes as well as pitchers of juice and milk.

Taking her seat, she cheerfully announced, "Pass it around, there's plenty for everyone."

An uncomfortable silence settled over the table while they all filled their plates until Hoggle asked the question that had crossed Sarah's mind a dozen times, "Why bring her here? There's not much to be done. Just her bein' here fixed up most of what was wrong with this place."

Coolly Jareth replied, "It was a direct order from the Triumvirate."

"What's the matter Hoggle, don't you want me here?"

"Quite the contrary," Drema interrupted.

"I just don't want you anywhere near Tiberon," Hoggle grumbled.

'I'll second that,' the king thought.

"After what he did the last time you was here..."

Jareth's eyes snapped onto the dwarf's, "What happened last time?"

"I told you it was nothing," Sarah Two said, scowling at her friend. "The other night at the ball Tiberon was a perfect gentleman."

"That oughtta prove to you he's up to no good," Hoggle objected.

"For once I agree with the tiny twerp. Tiberon is a Lytegian breed of fey, known for their ability to beguile others."

"Boys, enough shop talk in front of the B-A-B-Y," Drema coughed to draw away from her juvenile spelling.

"I not a baby," Sarah One protested.

"No you're not," Sarah Two agreed. "You've grown quite a bit while I've been away."

"I missed you Sarah."

"I haven't been gone very long."

"Yeah, but daddy said the Goblin King was going to kill you."

"That's not what I said," he laughed nervously at the king. Jareth raised his eyebrow.

"Yes you did. You said she was going to disappear in the Labyrinth and get her fool self killed by that rat that calls himself Jareth."

"Is that what you said?" Sarah asked him through a smile.

Hanging his head, the dwarf grumbled, "Not exactly what I said."

"If you must know, Jareth saved me."

"Saved you?" Drema asked. Hoggle's eyes grew wide.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. See by the time Mason and I finished working on the door, it was late, dark and I was horribly tired. There was this horse."

"It was a Pooka," Jareth interrupted.

Sarah looked at him twisting her lips in mock irritation. "Who's telling this story?"

"Well if you're going to tell it, tell it properly."

She went on to relay everything that had happened beginning with her wild ride through the Labyrinth and concluding with their departure from the castle this morning. Well, almost everything. She left out a few things that didn't warrant repeating in mixed and severely underage company. Her feelings on Maeve she kept brief and civil. The details of her evening with Tiberon even shorter.

"You were fool enough to go off alone with him," Hoggle slammed down his silverware. Finding a common ground forming between himself and Jareth. The king too, lay down his utensils, crossed his arms over his chest and looked down his nose authoritatively at Sarah.

Without so much as a flinch she continued eating. "I'm old enough to do as I choose."

"Do you see?" Jareth conveyed his frustration to his new confidant, "Do you see what I have to put up with? I mean I save the girl's life, I put her up in my home and this is the thanks I get. Blatant disregard for her own safety. It's like having a teenager!"

"I'm no happier that she's with you, under yer roof, doing," a sharp glance from the corner of his wife's eye and he chose better words, "whatever you ask." Sarah blushed at the innuendo.

"I assure you," Jareth resumed his meal, "she's a far sight better off at my castle than she would be anywhere with Tiberon."

"Would anyone like to know what I think?" she asked rhetorically.

"No!" The pair spoke in unison.

"I would dear," Drema said. "I am very curious to know what you think?" Always the voice of reason, Hoggle's wife brought calm to the breakfast table, stilling Sarah One's swinging head as it tried to keep up with the verbal fray. The men looked at her, irritated that she had trumped them rather than rushing to protect the girl.

Sarah smiled a satisfied smile, "I think he's never been anything but nice to me. He was the only one at the ball to pay any attention to me…"

"I had obligations," Jareth insisted. "I sent Deverell and Turgomon to keep you company!"

"Let her finish Jareth," Drema told him. Sarah One put a hand to her hip and used the other to wag a finger at the king. As quickly as she turned her attention toward him, she turned her attention back to Sarah Two as if it were the most interesting tale she'd ever heard.

"Who wasn't being forced" she stressed, "to do so. I just don't understand what the fuss is all about. He's no different than you," she nodded at Jareth. "No different than Gandor or Turgomon or Deverell."

"Well if you want to make comparisons milady, he is a different species fey than any of the men you just mentioned; however, he is fey. I'll give you that much, but as I've told you he's Lytegian. You know someone else of Lytegian descent Sarah, someone you met earlier this week. Ranofyr? Do you find him to be the same caliber fey as Gandor or Turgomon or me for that matter.

Sarah sat dumbfounded, unable to meet his gaze, filled with embarrassment at her poorly chosen words, "No I wouldn't group all of you together."

Hoggle tried a different approach. "Sarah, we've known Tiberon for much longer than you have. He's not the fey he wants you to think he is. When we were in the woods with him, when I sent my axe sailing at his feet, was that the same Tiberon yer talkin' 'bout now?"

"I'm sure I just misunderstood him that day."

"What's to misunderstand. He pawed you, he kissed you."

"He kissed you!" the king was back in the mix.

"Maybe he's changed."

"Fey do not so easily change their demeanor," Jareth protested.

"Oh really," she fired back.

"That's different. I was in love with you." Sarah lifted her eyebrows and cocked her head. "That's what you're hoping for? You're hoping that he's fallen in love with you. That would make you happy would it?" Smug, the mortal kept her eyes on him as he ranted. "And these feelings you're hoping Tiberon has for you, are you willing to return them for him?"

She had pushed it this far, it was too late to turn back. He made her wonder about Maeve, now it was his turn to wonder. Her sharp tongue prepared a nasty retort, but before she could, Drema's cool head prevailed. "If you three want to act like children, go ahead, but you won't do it in front of my child." Despite the baby crying her objection to being removed, Drema carried her back to her bedroom, finally conceding to play checkers if she would only hush. Sarah looked at the men left at the table with her. They had been acting like children, all of them.

"Drema's right." Standing and removing the dirty dishes from the table she decided, "I owe them an apology. If you'll excuse me." She knocked gently on the door of the bedroom that had become familiar to her.

Once hidden inside, Jareth turned to Hoggle, "He kissed her?"

"On the lips."

"You threw an axe at him?"

"I did," the dwarf confessed his tone gruff and authoritative like a father's would be. "Then we sent Gandor after him."

"You did?"

"I did."

"Good man, Hoggle."

"It's H...ard not to want to keep her safe."

"Tell me about it."

They looked at each other for a long minute, sizing each other up. Hoggle had noticed a change in Jareth. What had made him miserable melted away when Sarah came back. There was a change in Sarah too. He saw through her smoke screen, putting Tiberon between them to keep from letting him get close. Probably trying to make him jealous enough to confess his feelings first, so she didn't have to. "I won't let anyone hurt her."

"Understood," Jareth whispered with sincerity.

Drema pulled Sarah close to her, "I don't want you to go. I hate saying goodbye to you."

"I'll be home by nightfall. We're staying here tonight," she reassured her.

"Even so, why can't you just stay here all day?"

"Because," Jareth interjected, "she's got to go into the woods, got to see the castle."

"Don't so much as take an eye off her," Hoggle warned.

To maintain the farce, the king looked at him as if to say, 'You dare tell me what to do.' Then held out his elbow for Sarah to accept so he could transport them to Tiberon's castle.

They arrived outside the castle gate only seconds later returned to full size. Tiberon's castle was the most odd of the castles she had seen thus far. I looked like several button mushroom caps attached to a giant mass root system. Each cap representing the top of a turret, designed to blend into the wooded backdrop and appear to be nothing more than a mushroom patch. Before Jareth could ring the Representative was at the door.

"King, what a pleasure to have you with us. Won't you come in?" he turned to the side and allowed Jareth to enter. As Sarah moved to follow, Tiberon slipped his hand beneath hers, raising it effortlessly to his lips as if he were going to kiss the back of it. At the last second he turned her hand over and pressed his mouth against her palm, "It's lovely to see you again milady."

Sarah blushed. Jareth's face grew red as well, only his hot with anger. "Let's not waste much time, there's plenty to be done. What is it that still needs to be repaired in this sector?"

"Surely we needn't rush. I don't see why this can't be a pleasurable experience for all of us." Tiberon's violet eyes sat on the mortal as he spoke these words.

"I did not get to be king because I lack efficiency. I'd just as soon we make our plan and set about our business so that we can accomplish something before we must retire to the dwarf's home."

"The dwarf's home?" Tiberon asked, a flare in his voice that announced he had no prior knowledge of these arrangements. Seeing the way Sarah drew back and raised her eyebrows at his outburst, he said more calmly, "But I had prepared two of the finest rooms here for you."

"Oh, but Hoggle and I are good friends, I would feel terribly rude being here and not staying with him." The Goblin King smiled, content to allow Sarah to make the objection for once. Tiberon's expression of utter disappoint was something Jareth would have rather enjoyed remembering, thus he made a special effort to tuck it away in his mind as a souvenir.

"But of course," he chuckled. "I completely understand," his smile was cursory at best. "Well then, I suppose we should get down to business then. Let me lead you to the library, I have some maps there that will be helpful."

As the Representative led them through the main entrance and down the hall to the library Sarah looked around. The castle was mostly stone and wood, a lot like Jareth's although not as impressively built or plushly decorated. The floors were dirt, not a scrape of marble to be found. When Tiberon opened the door to the library Sarah was surprised to see that it was small and intimate, the wood darkened with natural bark. Unlike the king's massive library this one contained fewer than two hundred books, a large table with six chairs surrounding it and a small roll top desk tucked in a corner by the window. It was cherry finish and didn't match anything in the room. It was as if it hid in the corner, scorned by everything else that filled the library, shunned because it was odd.

"That desk is charming," Sarah remarked when she finished evaluating it.

"My father's," Tiberon said coldly.

Jareth looked it over himself. "It always amazed me what Gumlain was able to do when he set his mind to it. It's a fine piece of carpentry, you should be proud." The king had spoken in earnest. Gumlain had been a good man, with a kind heart, a pillar of the realm. Jareth often wondered how it is that Tiberon became what he was having two such gentle parents, but children were apt to rebel he supposed.

"Yes," was that a sneer crossing his lips as he continued, "father was rather handy." The Representative took a seat at the long table, "You wanted to talk business your majesty, shall we."

Jareth sat across from him and was pleased when Sarah sat to his left. Tiberon turned the map, making it easier for them to read as he began to explain. "You see here we have a stream bed that's dried up, there's got to be a spell that will get it flowing. This clearing was housing until it grew covered by fallen leaves and branches, now it's little more than a thicket. A series of paths in this area," he pointed with the tip of his fingernail, which Sarah noticed now had been filed to a point. Perhaps that's why Jareth always wore those gloves, "have become overgrown. We'll need to clear those. Finally, in the outreaches of the sector there is a flowerbed that refuses to bloom."

"I say we start from there and work our way back to the castle," Jareth said.

"Actually," Tiberon purred as he dropped the map so that he could scoop up Sarah's hands, "I was rather hoping to take care of everything else and save the flowerbed till last. It's so far out in the sector Jareth and giving you directions would be pointless. I've already surveyed the land, I know just where it is and how to get there. I'm sure Sarah and I could handle it alone, say tomorrow night, after dinner."

The king watched, waiting for her reaction. Sarah was staring into his violet eyes already under his spell, "If it's alright with his majesty."

"You've already made it very clear that you've come here with your free will in tact." Though he tried to act as if her decision mattered less to him than the exact shade of the sky, his inner self struggled to resist the urge to tie her up in Hoggle's basement and keep her there. At the idea of tying her up his mind wandered.

It wasn't until he heard Sarah's sweet voice chime, "In that case I'd love to."

The Goblin King groaned something indistinguishable. "Well then, that's settled. Why not have a hearty lunch before we head out to the houses." Tiberon suggested as he led them back to the main hall and into the other wing of the castle where the kitchen and the dining room were. "Please have a seat," he pulled a chair out for Sarah. Jareth settled for a seat across from the mortal and Tiberon took the head.

Once they were situated, the Representative rang for his staff. One elvish maid came from the kitchen, curtsied and said in fast, frantic words, "My humblest apologies sir, your majesty and milady, but the staff has run a bit behind and your meal is not quite ready. Can I bring you a drink while you wait?"

"Mead all around," Tiberon told her.

As she turned to leave, the king called out, "Make mine a brandy, neat."

The Representative ignored his request. "So Sarah, would you like a tour of my castle while we wait for cook to finish up?"

"Yes, thank you," she accepted eagerly. Tiberon rose and offered her his arm. By the time they reached the door, the king had yet to join them. "Aren't you coming?" Sarah asked.

"No. I think I'll just sit here and wait for my drink, besides, I've seen this place before, I'm sure Tiberon would much rather show it to you."

"Suit yourself."

Jareth slide down in the chair and slung one of his legs over the arm, "Oh Sarah would you like to see the rest of the castle while we leave the king here to twist his hair until we return," he mocked. The servant looked very strangely at him when she returned with his brandy. Setting down the crystal snuffer, she backed away. He lifted his palm to her, causing her to stop. Then he downed the drink in one swallow and handed her back the empty glass. She returned in a few moments with another.

Upstairs in the castle, Tiberon made a point of showing Sarah the rooms he had prepared for their stay. Jareth's was at the beginning of the hall nearest the stairs and contained a simple bed with simple coverings, a small bureau and chaise. He let her peek in some of the other rooms, a bath, a workroom, a sitting room, until only two doors remained unopened. One was the room he had prepared for her, the other his chamber. Tiberon opened the door to what would have been her room, there was a bed, with a grand head board, the dressing all pink and white, enough pillows so that she could have slept on those alone. A small dressing table with matching wardrobe. A velvet covered settee and table sat before a small fireplace. Jareth would have been furious if he had seen the differences between their rooms. Through another door in her room they reached a bath. A deep tub was inside, silver, claw footed with a swan's neck faucet. A blue curtain to hide the water closet, a full length mirror and silver wall torches.

"What's through that door," Sarah asked when she noticed another door across the way.

Tiberon opened the door wide, "My room," he said. She looked inside, not really noticing much of what was in the room. Sarah was too distracted that he had put their rooms so close and Jareth's so far away. It frightened her. What did he think? Then again, Jareth had given them adjoining rooms and she hadn't seemed to mind. But that was different, he was trying to make her comfortable, limit her being waited on hand and foot which made her very uncomfortable. Tiberon had servants to cook and to clean, but not in the droves the Goblin King had, ready to do everything but breath on your behalf. It seemed more purposeful when Tiberon had done it, more ominous. "I didn't want you to have to wander the halls in your night clothes," he quickly added sensing her hesitation. Rather than reacting the way he had hoped, the idea of the her sleeping across the hall from him able to make her way to his bed unnoticed trouble the girl. The Representative practically shoved her back into the hall, "Yes, well, let's see if our meal is ready shall we."

Back down the hall to the stairs they went, "What's down there?" Sarah asked.

"Those are my servant's quarters."

"Oh," she said trying to seem interested. Tiberon told her a joke as he helped her descend the stairs hoping it would break the tension before they got back to Jareth.

While he'd been waiting for them to return the king had downed three brandies, each neat, each promptly refilled. Not to mention, he had been joined at the table by a magnificent red head who was hung on his arm when Sarah and Tiberon returned. "And so I said, 'No, no, he was a HOB goblin!'" They both erupted with laughter when they came through the doors into the dining room. Jareth stood as was customary when a lady entered. Tiberon went to great their new guest, "Maeve, darling, so glad you could join us." He kissed her cheek, then went to hold out Sarah's chair.

When they were all seated, Maeve sipped her wine and said, "So you're the Legend I've heard so much about?"

"I suppose I am."

"We have a lot in common you and I," she smiled her wide eyes shining.

"How so?" Sarah asked as their meals were being set before them.

Maeve unfolded her napkin and placed it over her lap, "For one, we both let this slip through our fingers." The fey pawed Jareth openly.

"I wouldn't say I let him slip through my fingers."

"Then what would you say," Maeve was growing irritated that Sarah was not more upset at her line of conversation, but rather rebutted her statements calmly and evenly.

"I defeated him and was sent home," Sarah looked from Maeve to Jareth and back again. "Tell me, what stopped him from keeping you around?"

The fey laughed uneasily, "Yes, well, we all make choices we sometimes regret, I suppose you can say falling from the king's grace was mine."

"Only that one?" she asked in feigned innocence. Even Jareth had to bite back laughter.

Tiberon put an end to the cat fight, "I was just telling them, I thought we'd go and clear the village after lunch, then maybe the path. Care to join us?"

At that moment Sarah could have reach out and swatted Tiberon. Every male fey in the Underground was smitten by this woman she decided. For whatever reason, none she could see, but every last one of them was concerned with her in some way. Now she was going to spend the day with them. 'Marvelous,' she thought, 'What could be better?'

When lunch had ended and the table was clear, the foursome headed for the village. Maeve hung on Jareth's elbow, which he seemed to neither mind nor find endearing, for the brandy had further muted his normally unexpressive face. Sarah walked along beside Tiberon. Though she didn't know it, the king was keeping a watchful eye on her, or more to the point Tiberon's treatment of her. They came to what looked like a patch of briars. "This is it," the Representative cried. "This used to be a small village, much like Hoggle's with toadstool houses and tree trunks for the larger breeds."

Stepping forward, she hoisted a large branch, not afraid to show Maeve that she could walk like a woman even in a man's shoes. Jareth laughed, "What are you doing?"

"Clearing away this debris," she stated feeling it was rather obvious.

"We'd be here for a month if you did it like that."

"What am I supposed to do?" Intent in their debate, these two were unaware of the Representative's hushed conversations with Maeve in the background.

"What did we spend all night practicing before we came here? Use your magic!"

Jareth should have known better than to get her angry and then tell her to use magic. When Sarah closed her eyes and called upon the wind, a gust with the strength of a hurricane blew up knocking her forward into the king's arms, the second gust knocked them to the ground along with Tiberon and Maeve. "Jareth," she shouted above the wind's roar, "What's happening?"

"It's my fault. Your emotions have a powerful effect on your magic. I shouldn't have told you to do anything while you were angry at me." The debris was tossing all over, spinning, doubling back and heading for the fey and the mortal. "Just calm down."

"I'm frightened." Sarah's desperate fingers pulled him closer.

"There's nothing to be frightened of. Close your eyes," he instructed. "Just think of a warm summer breeze that sweeps over your skin as it carries the stinging rays of the sun's fire away with it. Feel it wind your hair around your face, kissing at your arms." The wind died suddenly, the tree branches and leaves stopping in place and falling to the ground. A very large branch dropped close to Maeve, had Tiberon not shoved her out of the way it may have even hit her. "That's it. You're doing great. Now make it a stronger wind. Imagine you're sweeping all this mess off into the forest with a giant broom." The intensity of the wind began to increase. "Only you've got to be forceful enough to get it to move and gentle enough to leave the houses behind."

It seemed easier doing magic with his tender voice to guide her, his wisdom, his words. Before long the entire village was revealed. Jareth stood and offered Sarah a hand. Tiberon helped Maeve to her feet. Everyone began brushing off. Their clothes need adjusting and their hair was wild. Sarah removed the band from her hair and let it roll from her crown to her shoulders, each lock a perfect spring. Tiberon and Jareth stood mesmerized as she shook her curls free. The king used his magic to reset his mane, while Tiberon tended to his by hand. Maeve's hair had been done up in an intricate twist, most probably by a servant, for she seemed far too high maintenance to do such menial tasks. She tucked a few stray pieces behind her ears, but was unable to do little more to reset her appearance. Tufts of red stuck up in every direction. Secretly the others laughed. Sarah looked at Jareth, wanting to say things her lips refused to repeat, as was usually the case.

Tiberon grabbed her elbow, "Fabulous work," he praised. "Now let me show you the path."

"She's tired Tiberon. That experience was a bit too much for her. The path can wait until tomorrow." Jareth told him. "Give me the mortal so that I can see her home."

"No, I'm fine," she said sternly even though she really wanted to collapse and let the king hoist her in his strong arms and carry her back to Hoggle's stump where she could sleep for hours undisturbed. She wouldn't admit to that though, not with Maeve there, watching, waiting for her to show some weakness, some short coming that she could accentuate. Damned if she'd give her the chance. So on they pressed on, almost a mile to the paths. Sarah's legs were weak and shaking by the time they reached the overgrown section, but Tiberon barely noticed as he prattled on about his sector and himself, but Jareth observed carefully while he tried to drown out Maeve's stories. Bringing up forgotten bouts of lovemaking here and there along the way. Sarah overheard each one, but did her best not to whip around and ask embarrassing questions.

"There it is milady, do your worst," Tiberon stepped back, fearful that her sometimes clumsy magic might choose him the unwitting victim once more.

This time she thought carefully before she did anything. Jareth mistook her hesitation and rushed to her side. His hand rested at the small of her back, "What's wrong?"

"I'm just thinking. In my world, they'll sometimes set controlled fires to burn out a section of forest. Do you think I could control fire well enough to burn back these brambles?"

"It's not what I think that matters. It's what you think."

She smiled up at him resting her hand in his, which lay palm up before her as part of a gesture he had made while he had been speaking. Even here with Tiberon looking on his angry eyes a deeper shade of purple than usual, and Maeve's wicked stare burning into their backs. Maeve disgusted at the gentility he was showing her, the soft and subtle kindness, it had all been hers once, but she had thrown it away. Tiberon angry that there was anything between them at all. This would make his job far harder. He had expected to need to win her interest, but not her heart.

When Jareth stepped away, Sarah began her slow process of summoning the fire. She pictured a match, struck by her father's hand, and left to fall into a campfire. The way the flames licked at the kindling until it grew powerful enough to consume even the thickest logs. Her face dripped with perspiration and her hair blew in the backdraft of the flames which neatly carved out the paths before them. In her mind she kept the campfire blazing, never allowing it the freedom to rage out of control, carefully monitoring every ember that blew into the wind, being sure to watch the glow die before the grey ash settled to the forest floor. The spell ended the same way, reversing the energy, reducing the flame as it burnt out all of the kindling, no more than a dying coal now, easily stomped out, left to smolder and eventually cease. When her eyes opened, she gawked at what she saw. Had it really been her magic that did this.

The paths before her were bare and easily maneuverable while the wildlife to either side remained untouched, still green, remarkably healthy. Jareth stood back, arms folded across his chest beaming in pride at what she had been able to accomplish. Tiberon ran up to her lifting her in his arms as he had done the day they first met and spinning her in circles as he showered her in accolades. When her feet touched the ground once more he kissed her. Not as passionately as he had the first day, but far more passionately than she would have liked for him to do in front of Jareth.

The king pretended not to notice as he went to offer his hand to Maeve who had strewn herself across the grass in boredom at being forced to sit through these shenanigans. "Jareth," she cooed when she finally bothered to noticed the cleared paths. "Let's go down to the stream. Remember when you took me there. It was such a hot day, at first I only put my toes in the water, but then you convinced me to," she giggled, "well you remember. Oh, please, let's go. I'll let you convince me again."

"The stream bed is dried up Maeve."

"Who cares. It's not like we need a stream, used to be we only needed something I could lie on or lean against. What has that girl done to you?"

The Goblin King was staring at Sarah and Tiberon, infuriated by the closeness she allowed him to achieve, curious if she afforded everyone the privileges she had afforded him. This was unacceptable. This was an outrage. He stomped his boots on the ground, hoping that it caused the underearth to quiver, to warn Tiberon he was on his way, but as he got closer he saw that Sarah was not cuddling into the Representatives arms, but dependant upon them instead.

"I…I was just going to walk her to the stream bed and she collapsed." His voice didn't hold near the fear it should have for someone who was holding the unconscious body of a woman he supposedly cared for or at least wanted others to believe that he cared for.

Jareth took the mortal from Tiberon's arms. His elbow at her waist, he supported her back with his arm and her neck in his hand. "She's still breathing." The Goblin King scowled at Tiberon. "I told you she had done enough for one day's time. You pushed her on and then you tried to take her to the stream bed. Are you trying to kill her?" The Representative shook his head side to side adding a bit of melodramatic fear for effect. He hadn't really thought about it, but sure why not? If the mortal died he accomplished most of his goal anyway. The kingdom would still be his, but then what would be the fun? Jareth wouldn't get to watch on as the woman he loved defeated him once more, this time with Tiberon at her side. "Sarah. Sarah." Her name echoed in the trees, but not so much as a flutter of her eyelids. Jareth produced a crystal in his hand. "Sarah, I know you can hear me. I want you to wish for water Sarah. Wish for a glass of water." The orb glowed bright blue and took on it's new shape. The glass was cold, drenched in condensation. The king lifted it to her lips and helped her sip the refreshing liquid inside.

When Sarah's eyes started to blink, she tried to shove Jareth away, not remembering where she was or what had happened. Though he refused to let go, he did find a rock where he let her sit and helped her to the ground. "What happened?" she stammered.

"You just pushed yourself too hard." His leather glove smoothed back her hair. "Keep sipping the water and we'll go home. You've done enough for one day."

"She ought to stay at the castle," Tiberon argued. "It's far too far away taking her to the dwarf's place."

"My powers are fully restored, taking her there would be as easy as transporting her to Greece." The Representative curled his lip. Jareth only smiled. Sarah finished the water and the glass disappeared like a soap bubble when she set it on the ground. The king knelt at her side. "Feeling better?"

"A little, but I still don't feel right. Can we please go back to Hoggle's?"

"As you wish," he reassured her as he lifted her into his arms. Tiberon looked at Jareth with hate in his eyes. "If you'll excuse me, I must get milady home. I trust that you'll see to your other guest." The king was well aware Maeve's presence had not been a happy accident. They too disappeared as quickly as the empty glass.

"What did you do?" Hoggle demanded as he attached himself to Jareth's heels. "I told you not to take yer eyes off her and you bring her back like this!"

Ignoring the dwarf, he made his way to the spare room where the mortal slept. He shoved Hoggle out of the room and closed the door. "She's sleeping." The king was about to tell him how Tiberon had been behaving during their visit, but he saw Drema only a few steps behind her husband, her face twisted in concern, her child in her arms and thought it best not to. "The repairs in the southeast sector required her to use magic and she over did it."

Sarah One wriggled free of her mother's arms and flew to the feet of the king. Her tiny fists repeatedly pummeled his leather boots. "Whaddid you do to my Sarah? Whaddid you do?"

With a tenderness Hoggle never knew the king possessed, Jareth lifted the child, her rump resting on his forearm. His free hand wiped away the stains that scattered her cheeks. "Your Sarah is just fine. We were in the woods burning a path through the overgrowth and it got very hot."

"How hot?" she grumbled, tears still racing down her chubby cheeks.

"So hot, the sky was melting," he told her like it was a fairy tale, which of course it was, but there's no sense in arguing semantics. "And you see, little one, humans are very susceptible to heat. It can cause them to drip with water or become incredibly grumpy and sometimes they even have to go to sleep."

"She passed out," Hoggle mumbled to Drema who then went into the girl's room with a glass of water in case she woke up. While she was in there she opened the window so Sarah would stay cool. Her body was so still her breath coming in deep steady streams. Her skin terribly flush.

When she emerged from the room with all eyes on her she said, "Sarah will be fine. Nothing to worry about. She just needs to rest." Truthfully she didn't know that. For once she was taking the word of the king hopeful that what she had seen in him had been a true change and not one of his tricks or one of his spells.

Drema went to make dinner insisting that Sarah One come help her. "You're old enough to help with chores," she said when the girl began to whine.

"It's not fair," Sarah One protested. Jareth smiled.

He and Hoggle sat in the living room as the king retold the story this time adding in that Tiberon had invited Maeve to the house, that he had been the one to push Sarah to her breaking point and that he had kissed her shamelessly right in front of him. Hoggle listened intently, anger filling him from head to toe. "I'll take my axe out there right now. I'll send a message to Gandor. He was warned!"

"No sense. It's not you nor Gandor or even Sarah that he wants. It's me." Jareth's leather gloves rolled hand over fist. "I don't think he realizes what he's asking for, but if it's what he wants. It's what he shall have."

"Dinner's about ready, if one of you wouldn't mind going to check on our sleeping beauty.

Hoggle looked at the king who seemed to be itching to get out of his seat. Jareth observed that the dwarf had equal enthusiasm to tackle the task. "You do it," Hoggle told him. The king's eyes grew soft. If nothing else would be accomplished in the southeast at least these two would reach an understanding.

Still tucked into bed, Sarah's raven hair framed her pale face, it's usual healthy glow gone for the time being, replaced by more of a bisque color that did very little to detract from her beauty. Jareth reached out to stroke her hair, tucking some strays behind her ears. She didn't stir, didn't even blink. Her chest continued it's monotonous rise and fall. Pressing his lips against her forehead, he could tell that her body temperature had regulated. 'Best I let her rest,' he thought. He wanted to stay, vigilant at her bedside until she felt well enough to open her eyes and speak to him. Until he could hear from her lips that she was well, but Drema was expecting him briefly, with or without Sarah. Softly he called her name, "Sarah." When she didn't answer he turned to go. At the door he glanced back one last time before creeping back into the hall where Hoggle was waiting.

"Well?"

"Still asleep. I'd rather not wake her. She probably needs the rest after the day she's had."

"You shouldn'ta let her do everything he asked."

"If you haven't notice by now, I rather doubt you ever will, but no one lets that girl do anything. Furthermore no one stops her from doing as she pleases either."

"Do you still love her?" Hoggle asked.

"What?"

"You heard me. Do you still love her?"

The king's lips did not move, his eyes unable to blink, for an instant it seemed as if his heart had forgotten how to beat. "She's only here for another month, doesn't matter how I feel. She'll be going when her times up."

"That's the most cowardly way of admittin' it that I kin think of. I expected more from you, something grand and theatrical, but this...this takes the cake." The dwarf started walking away from him, toward the dining room, mumbling something the whole way about renaming him the Chicken King and no one would ever know, what with all those blasted chickens running loose. Then Jareth's fey hearing heard words no one ever challenged him with before. "Why not just admit yer in love with the girl?"

"Hoggle," the dwarf paused. "I loved her once, rather a long time ago."

"That was then, this is now...I know, spare me the details."

"And that love has spanned all these many years. Though I would never admit it to her. Though I would never make her choose between her life and mine, her world and ours. I do still love that girl. Try as I have to keep hold of my soul, it belongs to her and her alone, from now until I die and sometimes I pray that will be soon after her departure. Despite my efforts and the lengths to which I've gone, she owns my soul, owns it while it's still inside me. Do you know what that's like? Do you have any idea how painful it is to be in constant conflict with yourself? There are times I should be livid, barking at her like she were some disobedient goblin, but I find myself at the same time eager to run to her side and offer her her dreams." A wistful calm had manipulated his face into something far off and dream like. "But I did that once, more than once and she refused me. We've come to terms with one another now. We agree that each of us finds the other attractive, suitable as a..." The Goblin King stumbled for words.

"Just say it," Hoggle sighed.

"As a mate. We've agreed to enjoy each others' company for as long as we have it."

"And when she returns Aboveground with your soul, then what?"

"I'd rather not discuss these things, especially with you."

"Have it yer way. I'm just tryin' to look out for you. Wouldn't want to see her fall for Tiberon on account not knowin' you were in love with her, but don't mind me." Again he tried to strand Jareth in the hall.

"I haven't, as of yet, given her my soul in a physical sense. As long as I manage to retain my physical soul her returning Aboveground won't kill me."

"You mean to tell me, you haven't, even though you've..."

Jareth shook his head, "Every time."

"Every time? Whattya mean every time?" He narrowed his eyes on the king, "Exactly how many times have there been?" Jareth moved his lips to speak, "Never mind I don't want to know. So fine, she goes Aboveground without your physical soul and you get to live, it's a far cry better for you than the alternative, but you already admitted that she holds your soul anyway."

"Yes."

"So you'll live, but you'll wish you were dead. Left here all the rest of your immortal days unable to love anyone but her, a woman you can never have, a face you can never see."

"It's my cross to bear. She'll return home, no more aware of my feelings than when she arrived, she'll go on with her life without feeling any obligation to me and I will, well I'll find something to do. I am king after all. An entire kingdom is dependant upon me for," he stopped what he had been saying. For what? They no longer faced the threat of invasion, the raids were long since put to rest. None but he really kept an army and so anyone who tried at attack would be promptly dealt with. The title king had become a figure head more or less, but someone had to do it and it might as well be him.

"What if she feels the same way about you only she's scared to admit it?" Hoggle asked after Jareth's long silence.

"Do you know something?"

Hoggle shrugged, "Just suppose."

"Her love would need to be a true love. The Triumvirate would only allow her to remain if it was. A fey and a mortal are no longer permitted to reside in this realm under the guise of school girl crushes and fleeting infatuations. How many mortals have ever found true love?"

"Well I don't know if it's you. I sure as hell know it's not Tiberon, but if ever a mortal was born who deserved to find true love, it's my Sarah. And if ever a mortal was born who was capable of true love..."

"'Tis her as well. Come now, your wife will know we're up to something if she doesn't see us at her table soon."

After supper was eaten and the dishes washed and put away, the small family and their royal guest sat around the fire playing board games, one after the other until Sarah One let out a mighty yawn. "Time for bed munchkin," Hoggle told her.

"I'm not sleepy," she grumbled, her eyes closing.

"No, then why are you closin' yer eyes?"

"I'm inspecting my eyelids for cracks."

Jareth laughed, "That's a good one. You're kids funny Hoggle."

Proud of herself, now that she had managed to attract the king's attention, Sarah One was ready to bargain. "I'll go to bed if the Goblin King tells me a bed time story."

All eyes were now on Jareth. "Well, I suppose that's a fair deal." He stood up from the rather cozy position he'd gotten into on the floor and reached for her small hand. Hoggle and Drema watched them as they toddled away, dragging the king down the hall and giggling. Jareth looked over his shoulder when he became aware of the audience. "What?" he insisted, "It's not as though I've never taken care of children before." True, just no one had ever really witnessed it.

Back in her room Sarah One made the Goblin King turn around so she could slip into her pajamas and then showed him just how she liked to be tucked in. He perched in her bedside chair and began the tale. "This is a very special bedtime story. One I have never told to anyone before. It's just for you. Okay?" The tiny girl, now bundled beneath enough blankets to make her seem no larger than a pea shook her head vehemently. "Good. Once upon a time, a long, long time a go there lived a girl named Sarah. She lived in a big house with her father and her step-mother and her half brother named Toby. She was fairly unhappy with her life as all teenagers tend to be, but Sarah was different. For what no one knew was that the king of the goblins had fallen in love with the girl and he had given her certain powers..."

Not long after, Jareth felt eyes on him, coming from the door of the small girl's room. He turned to see his mortal Sarah in the doorway. "Go on," she urged him, "I'm rather curious to see how this one turns out."

"I would think you ought to know."

Sarah One scuttled out from under the covers, "Sarah Two! You're awake. Are you all better now?"

"Fine, thank you."

"I'm glad, but um, Sarah?"

She moved closer to the now whispering child, "What sweetie?"

"Could you go away so the Goblin King will finish my bedtime story?" Her tiny hand cupped her mouth and she added, "It's just for me about another Sarah. He sure does like our name"

"Oh, I see. Sure precious, just let me get my goodnight kiss and you can have the Goblin King all to yourself." Sarah leaned down. Jareth moved in to kiss her, but quickly realized that it wasn't him she intended to kiss goodnight. "Love you, Sarah One."

"Love you, Sarah Two. See you at breakfast."

Sarah shook her head, smiled at Jareth and left the room. In the kitchen she fixed herself a sandwich and a glass of milk. She felt ridiculously well rested and ravenous. A smile was adhered to her lips thinking of the way Jareth had reacted to her comment about a kiss goodnight, but given their ritual at the castle, it wasn't completely unexpected. Somehow though, she couldn't bring herself to do it, not in Hoggle's house. It seemed disrespectful in a way. She thought about the plans she made with Tiberon, promising to have dinner with him. Remembering what Hoggle had brought up about their first encounter, recalling how he had pushed her so hard today in the woods, made her wonder why she had agreed to this at all. He'd kissed her today almost like he had back then. Perhaps it was just his way of showing appreciation. As for her bout of exhaustion, she could have stopped herself if she hadn't been so inspired by seeing Maeve go green. He deserved a chance she decided. It was a harmless dinner. Then why did it feel so much like a date? She needed to be there anyway to cast the spells and perform the repairs. Then why did they need to be alone?

In the middle of this argument with herself, Jareth came into the kitchen and sat with her. "Feeling better are we?"

"Feel like Rip Van Winkle," she kidded.

"How'd you meet him?" the king asked.

Sarah's mouth hung open in shock, not believing that he was a resident of the Underground as well. At her vexation, Jareth chortled, giving himself away. "You," she growled.

"Not hungry?" he asked looking at the sandwich. Only two bites had been taken out of the top edge.

She shrugged, "I was. Then I just started thinking what a fool I must have made of myself today when we were with Tiberon and Maeve." Despite her best efforts, the alluring fey's name took on a certain tone.

"I had no idea she would be there."

"You didn't seem to mind."

"Suppose I didn't really. If the southeast is where she's chosen to live and Tiberon whom she's chosen to befriend then I imagine I should be prepared to encounter her when I visit there."

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?" he asked.

"Pretend like you don't care about someone you used to love."

"Who says I'm pretending?" That's right. Now Sarah saw what it was Maeve meant when she said they had something in common. This was it. "Let's not argue. Maeve is part of my past."

"But I'm part of your past too Jareth and I've come back again. Haven't you ever heard the expression, when your past comes back to haunt you?"

"Is Maeve haunting me?"

"I don't know, that's what I'm asking you." She bit into her sandwich. "Never mind, forget I said anything."

"She really upsets you doesn't she? Why is that?" His voice was tender and his tone sincere.

"I don't like how she is with you. Always hanging on your arm and making innuendoes, it's...it's, well it's just not right if there really isn't anything left between you two."

"Really?"

"Well yes. Any self respecting woman wouldn't do those kinds of things with a man they had no feelings for." He raised his eyebrow at her, giving her a look that said, 'Then explain us.' "It's different for you and me," she began as if she'd heard his thoughts, "you were in love with me once." She took another bite of the sandwich giving herself time to remember that he had loved Maeve too. "And you were in love with her once too, I forgot. See, so never mind, we won't talk about it anymore."

They sat in silence as she finished her sandwich. Jareth made a cup of chamomile tea and traded it for her milk. "You need your rest for tomorrow. This will put you back to sleep," he told her as he sipped the milk. "Eew! How do you people drink this foul tasting liquid?" When her tea was gone, he shut out the light and headed for bed. He was sleeping on a sofa in the living room. Sarah stayed at the table in the dark, "Not going to bed?" he asked her.

"No, I'm going," she said, now that his question had interrupted her thinking. She walked to the hall but before she left the living room she called back, "Goodnight Jareth."

Instantly he was at her side, the king kissed her forehead and said, "For what it's worth, it is different between you and me." Just as quickly as he had come he was gone. Sarah shuffled back to her room and lied awake in her bed. Not even a pot of chamomile tea would have put her to sleep.

Immediately after breakfast, they transported to Tiberon's castle. Jareth insisted that they head to the stream right away and then return for lunch before Sarah went off to tend the flowerbed. That would give her a chance to rest and perhaps they would not have a repeat performance of the prior day's events. Tiberon objected, wanting more alone time with the mortal, but Jareth was unwilling to budge. Off they went, this time without Maeve. Her absence pleased Sarah and though he didn't let on it pleased Jareth too.

"Here we are," Tiberon said as they reached the dried out stream bed. "Work you magic."

Sarah breathed deep, remaining calm was key. She learned that yesterday. In her mind she pictured a window, her on the inside looking out and it was raining, as it always seemed to do where she lived as a girl. One droplet went racing down the glass, joining with another, gathering weight, traveling faster and joining with another still until it seemed as if the entire mass of aggregate droplets had mustered together into a raging stream along the pane. "Open your eyes," Jareth told her.

The bed was filled with water flowing along like liquid sky. Kicking off a sandal, Sarah dipped in her toes. Jareth watched, flashbacks of the waterfall playing tricks with his mind. "It's not even cold," she marveled.

"Will you never cease to amaze me, my angel?" Tiberon asked Sarah.

She only looked at him. What was that supposed to mean? "Jareth taught me otherwise. I wouldn't be able to help anyone."

Tiberon approached his fellow fey "How can I thank you then?"

"Thank me?"

"Yes, for bringing me this miracle."

"Don't thank me. I was ordered to bring her here by the Triumvirate, if it weren't for them I'd never have let her step foot here."

Tiberon smirked, "Then I shall write them a letter, expressing my gratitude. I shall shout it from the tree tops. Thank the Supreme One for Sarah Williams."

Sarah paid him no mind, only stared at her reflection in the water, "Like a mirror isn't?" She saw pools of violet inside the blue.

"More like one of Jareth's crystals," she replied.

Tiberon's lips curled, "Right, you're right."

Sarah didn't see Tiberon's image with his lip held tight in an arc, didn't hear the way he conceded to agree with her. She was busily thinking about what it was that Maeve and Jareth had done here, perhaps in this very spot. It was scenic, the kind of place she thought two people could get overcome by certain urges. "I'm feeling tired, do you think we could go back now?"Sarah asked, wanting to be away from this place where she was reminded of Maeve's tasteless tales.

"Absolutely," Jareth agreed stepping up to them. The three walked back to Tiberon's castle where Sarah watched the men engage in a game of chess. For as much concentration that went into every move she would have swore that Jareth's kingdom hung in the balance. On several occasions one of them would take over ten minutes just to move a single pawn. After lunch, Jareth suggested that Tiberon take Sarah to this flowerbed that had yet to bloom. Of course, Tiberon objected saying he had planned to take her there after supper. Jareth reminded him of how weary she had grown yesterday and told him that were such a thing to happen again, he would hold the Representative fully responsible.

"Then I suppose we should go now before it grows to late. We can always have dinner when we get back."

"Good," Jareth told him. "That being settled I'm heading back to the castle. I'll be back to collect the mortal as night falls. If you run in to any trouble have Hoggle sent for me." At no time during this parting speech did he look at Sarah, for if he had, he would have found himself unable to leave. Rather he said what was to be said and vanished.

"Well milady, care to meet your next challenge." Sarah took Tiberon's arm and allowed him to lead her back into the woods. Her smile was faint. Suddenly, without Jareth she felt incredibly ill at ease alone with Tiberon. The walked on passed the village, which overnight had filled with new residents, down the paths, along the stream for nearly two miles. It was a beautiful walk. Everything lush and green in every direction. Butterflies filling the sky and birds singing down from the tree tops. The temperature just right, not hot, not chilly. The sleeveless green dress she'd chosen, was quite adequate for the weather. Along their way Tiberon talked and Sarah humored him by not interrupting and smiling when he laughed. But she had very little to say. He tried to ask her questions, forcing her to get involved in the conversation. Most of his questions were about Jareth or his kingdom and Sarah's answers were often short when she had answers at all. He was asking her things she didn't know, couldn't possibly. About his armies and about his business practices. She didn't like it

Relief swept over her in the breeze as they came upon the flowerbed. It wasn't hard to pick out the damaged spot, a see of mangled dried stems and leaves in the middle of such healthy green would have been like spotting an elephant in the living room. "I don't understand," the Representative said. "I've had elves bringing water to them everyday and yet they refuse to grow for me."

Sarah didn't understand how it was that he'd have gotten elves through the overgrown path with buckets of water or where they'd have gotten the water to fill the buckets without the stream. Surely they weren't filled at the castle faucets and dragged all this way by petite elves. From what she had noticed he had only woman elves at his dispose and only four, no five, of them. Regardless, she closed her eyes and pictured a garden. The garden the Leanan Sidhe had planted for her dead husband. She tried to recall each type of flower that had grown there, it's precise color, the feel of it's petals in her finger tips. She thought about the cool damp soil below and the sweet caressing sun above. When she heard Tiberon's child like laughter, Sarah opened her eyes.

"You've done it!" He announced gleefully. "You are more than just the legend these creatures have made you, you are a marvel, in this world or in any other." Before the mortal could finish admiring the gigantic blooms that had newly sprouted before her, she was swept into his arms, hoisted high once more and spun until she was dizzy. "Sarah, how can I ever repay you for what you've done for me, for my sector." Then his lips were upon hers. A powerful kiss that threw her head back. A passionate kiss she felt obligated to return, for when someone kissed you with that kind of intensity, it was almost rude not return their affections.

She broke the kiss awkwardly when thoughts of Jareth began to overwhelm her with guilt. "We should be heading back. I'm feeling a bit weak from..."

"Say no more, love," Tiberon told her, assuming it was his kiss that had weakened her when in fact it had been the magic. Encircling her waist with his arm he guided Sarah back to his castle. It made her somewhat uncomfortable, but Sarah didn't argue, only relied on him for support where her shaking legs could give her none.

Once they arrived at his home, the fey convinced her to lie down in the room he had prepared for her, just until she felt strong enough to join him for dinner. Peculiar enough she found bed clothes laid out for her when she arrived. On the edge of the bed she sat with the white chemise in her hand. Oh, Tiberon was charming, just as beguiling as Jareth told her he could be. And she had fallen for it. Defended him, trusted him and she saw now what it had gotten her. Nightfall couldn't come soon enough. If she had some way she'd call for Jareth now. Instead she fell asleep with the gown in her hand.

Dreams filled her head in the hours that passed, dreams of a redheaded woman, dreams of Maeve. Sarah prayed Jareth wouldn't make a cameo appearance. She watched as Maeve laughed and danced, spun about the room, this room by an unseen party. The look on her face one of shear joy. Her head tossed back and Sarah was given the impression of lips upon her neck. Not Jareth's, she knew the feel of Jareth's lips against her throat and this wasn't it. Black hair soon proved her point as she saw it linger on Maeve's pale skin. Violet eyes settled on hers and any question that remained was quieted. It had been Tiberon with Maeve in this room. 'Dear God,' Sarah thought, 'please wake me up, please!' Mercifully sleep released it's hold on the mortal. She sat up in the bed and pondered why Maeve would make her self so blatantly available to the king when she had obviously had Tiberon, and if Sarah was guessing, Ranofyr too. This settled it, Tiberon was not to be trusted. His involvement with Maeve, his constant questions about Jareth. He was up to no good and Sarah wouldn't be a part of it. "Let me just make it to sun down," she prayed aloud. "Just until Jareth can get here."

Tiberon entered her room through the door to the bath that lie between their chambers. "I see you're awake. Feeling better?" Sarah faked a yawn and shook her head. "Then allow me to accompany to you dinner milady."

While she slept, the dream had revealed much to the mortal, she knew now that the fey who Hoggle and the king had tried to warn her about had yet to rear his ugly head. Tiberon needed to be handled with kid gloves, at least for the last few hours of the day. In the dining room, he pulled out her chair. Set before her was an empty plate and a full goblet of wine. Tiberon took his seat at the head of the table, he rang a bell and his maids brought dinner a course at a time. From hors d'oeuvres through to desert they engaged in idle chit chat. Sarah did her best to keep him off the topics like Jareth, Jareth's castle, the Underground and its armies.

By the time she was brought a helping of peach cobbler, Sarah suddenly began to feel very tired. The room began to spin and she held her head. Once before she had felt this same way. Green eyes began to close as she pleaded for some sort of help. Just before the room went black, she thought she saw Tiberon sneer.

As promised Jareth arrived on Tiberon's doorstep precisely as night fell. He knocked once upon the door. No one answered. Patiently, which was rare for Jareth, he stood a moment or two, then knocked again, harder this time. It was the Representative who met him at the door, clad in a black smoking jacket, his hair tousled, eyes sleepy. "No doorman Tiberon."

"I am a humble fey Jareth. I am no king." He rose his hands to smooth back his hair. "Besides, in my generosity I have given my staff the evening to themselves."

"I don't particularly care. I have come to collect my mortal. Bring her to me."

"Oh, yes, well I'm afraid that isn't terribly convenient right now. She's resting."

Jareth edged his way into the castle, "Convenience has never been a high priority of mine. It is night fall and I have come to collect my mortal. I won't leave without her so whatever it is you have planned is officially ended." His eyes scanned the great hall before the king headed to the dining room, what little patience he had, now spent.

"You won't find her there."

Like an aggravated viper, the king turned on him, "Where will I find her?"

Tiberon pointed upstairs, a self satisfied grin manipulating his lips. It was all the encouragement Jareth needed. His long legs took the stairs three to a gait, the heals of his boots tapping on the stone and echoing in the emptiness all around them. It had occurred to him to burst open every door until he found her, but instead, on a hunch, he marched to the end of the hall and threw open Tiberon's chamber door. His mortal lie beneath the duvet. Immediately the king recognized the gentle creamy curve of her shoulder. By then the Representative was already in the doorway behind him. "I told you this wasn't terribly convenient."

Never looking at him, Jareth only waved his hand, materializing a blanket and walked slowly to the bed. Pulling back the duvet he scanned her naked body from head to toe. So beautiful, so perfect, the kind of beauty that Tiberon could never appreciate, the kind of perfection he would never have deserved. Covering her in the blanket, Jareth hoisted her into his arms. Her head lulled side to side as though she were in a deep sleep. When he passed the Representative, Tiberon couldn't resist the urge to make one final pointed comment. "I told her it had been a hard day with all the magic she had used. Tried to reassure her that we had all the time in the world to, well you know what I'm getting at, but she insisted."

Though the Representative tried his best to get in Jareth's way, to force him to meet his violet eyes, the king had a mission from which he refused to wave. As he descended the stairs, Sarah's eyes fluttered open. She nuzzled against his neck and whispered his name. It broke his heart to hear this now, when she had just been with Tiberon. He walked with more purpose, longer strides, prepared to walk her all the way back to the castle, the weight of her limp body no more encumbering than air. "Ah, your majesty," Tiberon called just as he was pulling open the front door, "I trust you'll be back in the morning. After all the order of the Triumvirate does say that I have rights to her for a minimum of forty-eight hours."

Finally ready to meet his stare with a rather stern mismatched blue steely gaze of his own Jareth lowered his voice to a growl. "You have no right to this woman, you never did. And as long as my blood flows iron free, you won't ever again. Not the Triumvirate, not the Supreme One himself will ever convince me otherwise."

"Where will you take her?"

"I'm taking her home." Wits about him once again, Jareth transported them both to the castle, tucking her safely into her bed and calling upon Arulan to see that she was dressed appropriately.

Back at his castle Tiberon returned to his second story. Rather than entering his suite he entered the room which had been set aside for Sarah in the first place. "Well," came a voice from deep beneath the covers on the bed.

"The king is convinced," he responded.

"You must have given quite the performance."

Tiberon pounced on the bed, covering Maeve's face in quick hungry kisses. "Without you to help me appear to be a fey who had just engaged in a satisfying pursuit and capture of a wild, spirited woman, I couldn't have done it."

"You're welcome," she told him returning his kiss. "Anything I can do to remind Jareth that ours was the last real love he would ever know."

"But I thought you didn't really love him?"

"He didn't give me time to realize that I really loved him," she pouted.

Tiberon looked down his nose at her, "You sure you don't just want him now because at long last he wants someone else again."

"You're a fine one to criticize a person who hungers for the things the king has."

"Ah, but for right now, it is not the king who has you. As of this minute, you are all I want." His lips covered hers as he pulled the duvet back over her head.


	27. Chapter 26

**CHAPTER TWENTY SIX - JARETH AND SARAH GET IN THE RING**

Arulan entered Sarah's room with a fresh tray. "Rise and shine Miss Sarah," she set the tray on her bedside table. "Miss Sarah?" Worried by her failure to receive a response, Arulan shook the mortal. "Good heavens! Your majesty! Your majesty!" It was a shrill cry, a voice filled with horror and fear.

Through the adjoining door came the king, as quickly as his feet had ever moved him before. His servant did not cry out for no reason, let alone the kind of howl she had just unleashed. "What is it?"

"She won't wake up." By then Arulan had begun to shake with fear.

"Calm yourself woman." The king redirected his attention to the mortal in the bed. "Sarah. Sarah, you need to get up now, Arulan has brought you breakfast." She didn't move, not a bat of the eyelashes, not a twitch of the nose. His gloved hands held her face, Jareth's thumbs pulled back her eyelids. Nothing but white stared back at him. He cursed himself for not better observing her last night when he was still angry at what she had done. Tiberon had told him she was tired and weak. Whatever he had forced her to do probably put her in harm's way. "Call for the healer."

"Jareth, what's happening?"

"Call for the healer." When he turned his eyes on her, Arulan could see the glassy shimmer of tears resting in his eyes.

Jareth sat in his office with Deverell going over the week's happenings, waiting for Arulan to tell him the healer had arrived. "So as you can see your grace, little actually transpired this week, but there are a stack of requests from the goblins which need your signature."

"Give them whatever they want," Jareth waved his hand.

"Do you really think that's wise your grace?"

For a long time the king did not reply. He certainly didn't feel wise. He didn't feel like he was in a position to make any decision, not even the simplest. Everything Hoggle had warned him about had come to pass. Jareth had failed to tell Sarah she still held his heart and Tiberon used it to his advantage. Losing his kingdom was devastating in a physical, visual sense. Losing his mortal was worse on a personal level. Yet for the first time since he had been made aware of her existence he hated her. Hated the thought of having to take her from Tiberon's bed. Hated the thought that his Representative had seen her at her most raw, her most vulnerable. Jareth was an educated man, well aware that his mortal did not return to him an unclaimed beauty. He believed in his heart that when she returned to New York she would know men since him, but how he had prayed that he would be her only one in this world. For a time he even let himself believe that she would want that too.

"Deverell," he asked, "do you think yourself a reasonable man?"

"Your grace?"

"Do you believe yourself to be a man of reason, a man capable of determining what should be done based on the good of a whole and not some wayward emotion toward one or a few?"

"Aye."

The edge of the riding crop slid the stack of requests in the direction of his assistant, "Then I trust that you will be able to make good decisions where these are concerned."

"Your grace?"

"Perhaps when the healer gets here, I should have him take a look at your hearing. Deverell, I'm tired. Having a mortal in my world has been more exhausting than I imagined. The Cleric has sent me a smart boy, you may not be much with a sword, but you are a smart boy. When this started I told you I would expect you to handle all things trivial while I am otherwise occupied, I intend to keep my word. Goblins are a greedy sort. I'm sure they've asked for everything under the sun in those letters and have probably sworn that I would approve, if I weren't so busy, like rampant children whose parents are vacationing and have left them with an aunt. I expect you'll look beyond that and make good, solid, educated decisions. Just don't make it seem too much like this kingdom could survive without me."

"Yes your grace," the king's words filled him with a confidence he had as of yet to show. The display reaffirmed for Jareth he had made the right decision.

"Well then, my work here is done." He left the young fey to the business he had given him and wandered the halls like a lost child until he came by the music room. Suddenly he knew where it was he felt he had to be. This room had been a special place for both of them in her early days at the castle. At the piano his fingers caressed the keys, unknowingly he'd begun to play the song they danced to the night before the ball. What a night it had been. If ever he had felt like he could have given himself away, it was seeing how she had trusted him. Soon his normally gentle hands pounded off the keys. Why would she give that kind of trust to Tiberon? How could she want him to thrill her the way Jareth had taken such pride in doing? He had a number of questions to ask her when she awoke.

It was well into the afternoon by the time the healer arrived. While Sarah had tossed and turned a little she had not yet become fully awake. Arulan sent for Jareth. He burst through the chamber doors in the middle of the healer's examination.

"You're majesty, how nice of you to join us." The healer packed away a few of his instruments and turned to inquire of the king, "Has she been using magic?"

"Some I suppose. Only what has been necessary to perform the repairs requested by the Representatives of the eastern sectors."

"Complicated spells?"

"Not that I am aware."

"Doesn't matter. If I had to guess, and obviously I have to, she's not yet used to magic, probably hasn't used it before she wound up here. I'm sure she just didn't realize how much it would drain her."

Remembering this morning and the way Sarah's eyes had rolled back in her head, Jareth looked again. This time he was met by two soft green pools searching blankly for something to see. "Is there any evidence that she's been," Jareth struggled to complete his thought.

"Drugged?" the healer asked. "Nothing obvious, but if you're aware of something I should be looking for, it would be important to her treatment that you tell me."

The king argued with himself, swearing the girl would need to be drugged to concede to taking up space in that mongrel's bed. For a minute, he even entertained the idea of having his healer examine the girl for signs of having been forced upon, but instead he weakly grumbled, "No, nothing that I am aware of."

"Okay then, the prognosis is good. Let her sleep until she wakes up on her own. If you notice anything peculiar, you know how to reach me."

"Thank you," Arulan told him. Jareth remained silent. Turning to his majesty, she asked, "Would you like for me to arrange it so that someone is here in the event the mortal wakes up?"

Jareth's eyes were cold upon her, "In the event?"

"Goodness me, I'm sorry. When…when she wakes up. I don't know where my head is."

"No Arulan, that won't be necessary. This happened while we were away, if she rises true to form, she'll come down for food. We'll notice her then. Just let her rest."

"Jareth, your not telling me something," he looked at her in blatant admission of his guilt and yet his eyes begged to understand how she had come to know him so well. "We've spent too many years together for you to try and get away without me knowing," she said as if she had read his mind.

"Not here Arulan. Come join me in a sitting room and we'll talk." Never before had it been so easy to convince him to share things with her. She knew immediately whatever weighed on his mind was heavy. Opening a door to one of the upstairs sitting rooms, Jareth allowed Arulan passed. She took a seat in a wing back chair near the window. Jareth joined her in a matching chair opposite a table painted as a chessboard. A small drawer along the side contained all of the pieces for a game, but this was no game. "You know that I returned to the castle for some time yesterday."

"I was informed."

"Yes, well Tiberon requested the mortal join him alone for dinner and then accompany him into the forest to cast a spell upon a flower bed he was having trouble getting to bloom. I managed to talk him out of doing things in that order so I could retrieve Sarah by nightfall thinking this would keep her safe."

Arulan attempted to sum things up, "But he pushed her to the point of exhaustion and now you feel responsible?"

"No, I'm afraid it's far worse than that." Jareth pulled back the heavy curtains with his finger. Looking out he saw how grey and dreary the day had become. Fitting for his mood. "When I returned to the castle for Sarah, Tiberon met me at the door in a robe. His staff had been dismissed for the evening and his appearance was disheveled." He paused again, hoping the elf would put the rest together. "The Representative told me Sarah was sleeping." Still no help. "I found her naked in his bed, in much the same condition she is now."

"You don't think that she would…I mean unless he…but even he couldn't be that…"

"I hope not, that's exactly what I think and yes he could!" Jareth shouted putting an end to her string of unfinished questions. "Of course there is always the possibility that she went with him willingly."

"Oh I don't believe that for an instant."

"She's very attracted, physically, to our kind."

"How do you know?" He looked at her, his face saying it all, "Oh, you haven't."

"In the technical sense no, but suffice it to say that we've gotten rather adept at pleasing one another. There's no reason why she couldn't have found the same attraction with Tiberon, in fact his being Lytegian would only lead me to believe her attraction would be stronger."

'No,' Arulan thought. 'No because she loves you, she must.' "I'm rather at a loss for words at this supposition of yours Jareth. How can you think Sarah would do such a thing?"

"Shy of her admitting it I cannot. But even if she were to admit it, what am I to do? I have no claim to her. She is a free spirit, as easily roped as the wind. Her stay here is only a few weeks more, beyond that I have no control over her."

"Then you've got to tell her."

"Tell her what, that I love her, that my world is nothing without her in it and that all she is doing here will be forgotten within a week of her leaving, for my heart will crumble all the same as it did fifteen years ago." His falling head caught in his palms, "Why bother?"

Arulan thought a moment. Sarah was a beautiful girl, probably been told a hundred times that she was loved and given her past, probably had a hard time believing what she heard, "You must do more than tell her. You must show her."

"Are you daft?" he asked sincerely.

"Jareth, a woman is a creature more filled with doubt than even your sensitive soul can comprehend. As afraid as you might be that she doesn't return these feelings for you, she is doubly afraid that you don't have them to begin with."

"Her not returning my feelings means my death," the king tried to reason.

"Doesn't matter. It means her heart. A woman will give away many things before handing a man her heart to treat as a play thing, hence your…shall we say, adventures…up until now."

"You're suggesting I court her?"

"Court her without her knowing. Do things with her, plan things for her, give her no choice but to admit her feelings for you." A huge smile had plastered itself on Arulan's pale and perfect face.

"How can you be sure she has these feelings to admit to?"

"I too am a woman Jareth. I know, trust me." She stood and pulled him to his feet. "There's a fairy ring in the glen this coming full moon. I'll check my calendar but I believe that to be this Thursday's eve. You'll take the girl. I'll make all the arrangements, you just need to ask Sarah."

Arulan was off like a shot. "Is that all," he grumbled.

Jareth wandered out of the sitting room and headed back towards the main hall. He would sit in the dining room and wait for Sarah to wake up. Just as he hit the top of the stairs, a determined dwarf with a face of rage came stomping up the marble steps toward him shouting, "Don't care what he's doin', I'm goin' to talk to him right now!"

"And by him, I assume you mean me," Jareth said coolly.

"Darn right. Where's Sarah? You never came home with her last night. I've waited all day to hear word from you and you can bet I'm not goin' home without knowin' whattya done with the girl" His backside jutted out as he leaned forward in a pathetic effort to intimidate Jareth who only grabbed him by the ear and dragged him back into the sitting room.

"What are you thinking coming in here carrying on that way about the private matters of this castle?"

"I don't care. When it comes to my Sarah I got no pride."

"Your Sarah is asleep in her room, exhausted from having used magic again yesterday to set right the list of things Tiberon had wrong in his sector. Are you satisfied?"

"No," he said indignantly. "You brought her home to us the first night when she was weak, but last night you bring her here. Somethin' more to it Jareth, somethin' more than what your sayin'."

'Where did all this sudden perceptiveness come from?' he thought. Shutting the door and making certain it was locked, Jareth told him all he had told Arulan.

"So whattya gonna do 'bout it?"

"What am I going to do about it? Who says I've got anything to do about it?"

"You love her, I know you do. What's more, the Triumvirate made you responsible for her. You've got to keep him away from her."

"I've consulted with Arulan and she feels I should attempt to woo the mortal."

Hoggle's head hung, "She's in danger. The Supreme One only knows what Tiberon's capable of, and your leavin' it up to a test of who can woo who?"

"Refusing to allow her near him only makes her seek him out more. What other choice have I got?"

"Have you thought about tyin' her up?" Jareth smirked, "Never mind, it's obvious we don't mean that the same way. Do what you can. If I can help then let me know, but I swear if she gets hurt, I'll…"

"You won't have to. I'll have already done it myself." Hoggle extended a hand to Jareth which the king took and shook firmly. They had a deal. Something in the king felt an obligation to do something he had never asked of any parent or guardian before, "Hoggle," he called to the dwarf as his stout legs carried him toward the exit. "I'll only do this with your permission." He eyed the king suspiciously, "May I have your permission to court your…Sarah?" His intent clear as rain this time.

"You may." Outside the door Hoggle leaned against the wall, "Sarah," he said, "What have you done to him?"

In the Southeast, Tiberon and Maeve were only just dragging themselves out of bed. Tiberon fixed them something to eat and they sat at the dining table discussing what their next steps would be. "When I finish with him Maeve, darling, he'll no longer be king. Why will you want him then?"

"You said it yourself last night. I want him because I refuse to see him want anyone but me. I was the best he'd ever had, the only woman he'd ever proposed marriage to and he was over me the minute I had my little tete a tete with Emanon. But this girl, this mortal, shatters his kingdom, runs off, returns fifteen years later and it's her he cannot live without. Unacceptable."

"Letting things get personal I see," Tiberon teased her lips with some fruit which she snapped off his fork her teeth grating along the tines.

"Don't I always? So you've made it seem as though you've had his mortal, now what?"

"Now, I let him stew. I use the lovely powders you've given me to continue to enchant the girl. Each time she's with me she'll fall into a peaceful sleep, and when she awakes, she'll have no idea what we've done or not done for that matter. Each time she leaves she'll have a strong inclination to return, but no clue why that inclination is there. Eventually she'll mistake those twisted emotions for love and Sarah Williams will be mine. The king will be devastated. That my darling is when you begin to visit the castle, reclaiming your rightful position at his side. With an insider at the castle, I'll know just when to bring out my secret weapon."

"Ooh, that sounds particularly dangerous," she purred leaning across the corner of the table to lay a hand on his thigh. "Tell me about it."

"I'll show you if you want to see."

"Maeve want, oh yes, Maeve want." Leave it to her. Few fey could match her ability to make even the most mundane thing into something titillating. Few words could fall from her lips without dripping sensuality.

Down the hall they walked arm in arm to a room Tiberon had failed to show Sarah when she was visiting. He opened the door slowly, "Good day your majesty. I hope you're not too put out, but I've brought you a visitor."

Maeve stood in wonder. He was the spitting image of Jareth right down to his boots only he wore all black, his hair black, his eyes like coal. "Charmed I'm sure," she said extending her hand, palm parallel to the ground.

"Such formality," he replied. The Shadow King took her hand and pulled the red head to him in a tight embrace. "Good to see you again Maeve." His lips fell upon her in a powerful kiss, for a moment she resisted, but just a moment. Then she gave into him as her arms rested on his back, her lips parting to accommodate his probing tongue. After a minute or so he let her free, grinning wickedly at the flush he had managed to spread over her cheeks. "I see you haven't forgotten me."

"How did you do this?" she asked Tiberon as she stalked around the Shadow King. "He's amazingly life-like." Her finger trolled over his shoulder, "I should like to borrow him for the night."

The men laughed heartily. "I didn't do this Maeve. The Shadow King is real. You see when Jareth went into the Labyrinth attempting to reclaim his magic from the girl, he lost track of his shadow. As luck would have it he's grown rather soft since then. A fey's spirit can be a restless thing and so the shadow lurked collecting his hostility as he allowed it to shed, gathering all that was evil that Jareth let sloth off. Until he was powerful enough to evolve into the being you see before you now. Jareth through and through but comprised of only the mean and evil bits, all the wonderful pieces. He wants the Labyrinth back too. So I've agreed to let him stay with me until the time is right. He's promised to help us get what we want."

Maeve was still affixed to the Shadow King, taken in by his majesty and stature. "So physically, he's just like the king?"

"In every way," the Shadow King's tongue slipped over his teeth.

"I see," she focused her attention to the crotch of his black tights and cursed the color for it's concealing effects.

"Not yet, love, but it can be arranged."

Tiberon bowed out gracefully, "I'll leave you two to become better acquainted."

Stumbling into the kitchen, Sarah hadn't even bothered to get dressed. She still wore her nightgown and robe, the one Arulan had dressed her in. Her hair had yet to be brushed and her face hung as if her chin weighed twenty pounds. "Miss," said one of the elves, "You look fearfully unwell, can I get something for you?"

"Just some toast," she said weakly. "I'm not very hungry, and I'm queasy."

"Yes mum," she said. Moments later she returned with the toast and a hot cup of tea.

Sarah sat in the dining room hovered over the pathetic meal. If she hadn't known better she would have sworn that she'd drunk far more than two glasses of wine last night. Head throbbing and upset stomach, the two worst features of a hangover. Having been alerted by his servant, Jareth joined her in the dining hall. "The cook tells me your not feeling well." Sarah only shook her head confirming that he had been informed appropriately. "What's the matter?"

"Queasy."

"I had my healer take a look at you this morning. He said you were exhausted from performing magic Sarah. What all did Tiberon have you do last night?"

She shrugged. "Not much really. We went for a walk and he showed me the flower bed. I cast a spell and it made me very weak. So, he helped me to the castle and I lied down in the bed he had made for me, before he knew we'd be staying at Hoggle's. I fell asleep and had the strangest dream. I don't much remember it now. Then when Tiberon woke me for dinner I joined him. We ate. I had two lousy glasses of wine and don't remember anything, but waking up in my bed this morning. I'm assuming you brought me home."

"I did."

"I don't remember it Jareth. None of it. Just the spell, I had to use more than one element which I've never tried before, but I did it. The flowers, they were beautiful." She sipped her tea to wash down the few bites of dry toast she'd taken while they talked. "But it must have wiped me out because I don't remember much afterward."

'Probably, the way he wanted it,' Jareth thought. "So you think this is a hangover?"

"It must be. I don't feel like I did when we went back to Hoggle's the first night. When I woke up from that I was well rested and starving. To be quite honest I can't even stand the sight of this toast, but I've got to get something to settle my stomach," she paused, "otherwise…" Sarah fled the room in search of the downstairs water closet. Jareth followed her to the door. From the hall he could hear her vomiting.

"Sarah," he called, "Can I get you something?"

"Jareth go away. I feel awful and if I look anything like I feel I don't want to be seen."

The king remained by the door until he heard her torrents end. Then he swung the door open gently. Sarah was slumped on the floor. Even ill, he couldn't resist her. His arms folded around her weak body as he lifted her off the cold floor. Up the stairs and down the hall they went to her room, Sarah grumbling the entire way, short incoherent words. Already peeled back, the duvet was ready to welcome her. Jareth set her on the mattress, removing her robe as he did so and covered her with the thick warm blanket. "What's wrong with me?" she whispered.

"Just rest." She gave him no argument. He looked at her for a long moment, concern and worry in his brow.

Arulan was in the doorway when he turned to leave, the same elf having alerted her of Sarah's condition as well. "What happened?"

"She's hung over."

"Hung over?"

"Apparently she had some wine with dinner last night and that in combination with the magic has made her ill."

"How much wine?"

"What's it matter?"

"How much wine?" she asked again.

Jareth pulled the door shut behind them. "Two glasses."

"That's not enough to make her this sick. Not even put together with magic. Look at what you can toss down in a day."

His eyebrow arced at her insinuation, "I've had a few centuries to practice."

"Mortals sometimes get ill when they're…when they become…pregnant. It's called morning sickness."

If ever the king looked defeated. Slowly he said, "If, and I mean if, she's pregnant, it's not by more than a day. Bit early for this morning sickness isn't it?"

"Well it's about as good as your hangover theory."

"Get the healer back here. He'll know if she's pregnant."

"Aye your grace."

Night crawled through the open window of Sarah's chamber by the time the healer returned. Jareth was propped up in a chair waiting on him. "I'm against this Jareth. It's none of your business if she's with child, unless it's yours?"

"It isn't and if she is with child, she needs to return Aboveground immediately before the baby has a chance to get used to our immortal atmosphere; otherwise, we'd have to send her home without the child. Now do as I have asked you to do."

The hands of the healer covered Sarah's stomach just above her womb. His touch caused her to wake. She gasped at the sight of him, for she had never laid eyes on him before. Gently, the healer explained who he was, "I'm just here to check your tummy. The king tells me that you're not feeling well."

"It's just a hangover," she explained.

"I see, well let me decide that, all right?"

Jareth appeared at her bedside, "Let the doctor do what he needs to do Sarah."

"I'm just going to press on your tummy, you'll feel some warmth, that's just magic. I'm taking a look inside your stomach." He continued with his description of his procedures. It was a comfort for Sarah who felt odd having this man examine her, but obviously it wasn't the first time. "Good, very good. Well it would appear as though you have nothing more than an upset stomach. Something you ingested isn't agreeing with you at all. I'm going to make you up something to drink that will fix that by morning."

The healer headed for Jareth's bath to work his magic. The king followed him. "So she's not…"

"Pregnant? Heavens no. It's as I told her out there. Something she's ingested has upset her stomach. By tomorrow she'll be up and about and eating more for breakfast than you," the healer laughed. Jareth sighed with relief. "Take her this and make her finish it. No sooner than it hits her stomach it will coat the lining and her queasiness should end. She'll have no more vomiting and she should be good as new." He emerged from the bath, the king in tow. "Well milady, I really do wish we would meet under better circumstances, but nevertheless, it has been a pleasure to serve you. The king has your medication. I wish you well."

"Thank you," Sarah smiled.

"Ah, here," Jareth stumbled as he handed her the drink.

"I really don't feel like taking a chance on throwing up again."

"The doctor said this will stop that." She looked at him hesitantly, her eyes asking, 'Are you sure?' "I'm sure," he said.

"Mmmm. This tastes like a strawberry milkshake. You want some?" she asked thrusting the glass under his nose.

"No, no, the doctor said you needed it all." She polished off the drink with no further argument. "Back to bed with you now." Jareth took the empty glass, placed it on the nightstand and tucked her in.

"You take such good care of me," she smiled up at him.

"I try to," he told her. "Get some sleep. You'll need plenty of rest if you're to exercise those jaws at the breakfast table tomorrow."

"Why's that?"

"Your appetite should return in full force by morning."

"Good. I know there's nothing left in there," Sarah quipped as she patted her belly. Her look quickly changed to embarrassment. "I'm sorry you had to see me like that?"

"You were ill."

"I know, but I thought I was hung over. I felt like a fool what with me acting like a drunken teenager slung over the toilet, bargaining with God that I would do glorious things in his name if he would only slow the earth's rotation." Jareth smiled. "I just don't understand why I don't remember so much if it wasn't the alcohol making me sick."

"Exhaustion can do tricky things. Best not worry about it now," he blew out the candles on her bedside table.

"Do you have to go?" she asked.

"You need to rest and I have things to do," he lied. "But I was wondering," his foolish mouth searched for words, "would you mind joining me," putting the invitation off for one more day, "in my office after breakfast tomorrow? Just to let me know you're all right."

"You could just come up to check on me."

"I'd rather you come to the office, we could discuss the plans for next week's visits."

Sarah had forgotten there were more sectors waiting for her to heal. "That's right. Have it your way, the office it is." A huge yawn could be heard in the shadow.

"Good night Sarah." Before she could respond she had fallen asleep.

Jareth hadn't courted a woman since Maeve and she was not apt to swoon at the things a normal woman was apt to swoon at. In fact, if anything, Jareth might have had to admit that she did more of the courting than him. She certainly sped up the process faster than he would have. Maeve was a very sexual creature, ritual courtship was not her style, patience not her strong suit. He consulted with Arulan, who gently reminded him of the basics. Dressing nicely, which he always did. Speaking kindly, which he sometimes needed to be reminded to do. And of course, pursuing slowly and not being too overbearing, which drove him insane. So he rose, bathed and donned his grey tights, a grey shirt with cravat, his grey gloves and black leather vest. Slid his long legs into his black leather boots and donned his favorite frock coat, the one with the amethyst highlights. To help incorporate the jacket more he streaked a few of his blonde locks a deep purple.

In his office he sat practicing. How was best to ask the mortal to accompany him? Sarah, I would like you to go with me to a fairy ring on Thursday evening. No that was a command. Sarah, would you like to go with me to a fairy ring? No, too much room for her to decide against joining him. Sarah, it would please me very much were you to accompany me this Thursday evening to a fairy ring in the glen. May I count on your company? Now that was charming. Who could say no to that?

Even for all of his rehearsal, when her small knuckles rapped against the thick door, his tongue turned to rubber. "In, I mean come in."

"Am I disturbing you?"

"Not at all," Jareth claimed fumbling with his coat and opening a book that had been closed. "Did you eat?"

"Oh yes, four pancakes and three pieces of sausage. Food never tasted so good." Her pink lips smiled making her face seem even brighter than the mango colored dress she was wearing.

"I'm glad."

"You won't be when I weigh four hundred pounds and you're trying to hoof me up those stairs." Her reply left him flabbergasted. What was that supposed to mean? She wanted to stay long enough for that to happen? She thought he would often find a need to drag her up the stairs? Picking up on his confusion, Sarah went on to say, "Oh I forgot, you all take everything so literally here. I just meant that I shouldn't keep eating like that because it could have a detrimental effect on my health."

"I see."

An uncomfortable silence joined them in the room. "So," Sarah spoke first, "you were going to tell me about my next appointment."

"I was? I mean I was. I was," Jareth stood. Extending an arm, he invited her to join him in the sitting area. "This has been a particularly difficult week for you. I'm not entirely insensitive to that. I've rearranged the schedule a bit. Talked to Gandor, who is already rather smitten by you and would likely give you anything you wanted." Sarah blushed. The color in her cheeks made something warm spread across the Goblin King's chest. "He's agreed to put off your visit until next week."

"Great. So I get a week off?"

"Not exactly, we should work with your magic some so that you're not so prone to these bouts of exhaustion. But I was wondering, there's this thing." He squinted his eyes, mortified that his eloquent words had been mutilated by his own lips. "I apologize. Thursday night a bunch of fairies, uh," sure that sounded better. Sarah's head was tilted on her shoulder her green eyes drawn up in the corner, thick black lashes pulling her lids over and back as she played tag with his gaze. "What I'm trying to say is, it would please me very much were you to accompany this Thursday evening to a fairy ring in the glen. May I count on your company?"

Her head nodded quickly a few times before she confirmed, "Yes, that would be lovely. I've read about fairy rings in some of your books. I was hoping I'd get to see one while I was here."

"Reading my books are you?"

"They're quite interesting, plenty of information. I hoped to have time to read them all, but I'm afraid I didn't count on there being so many."

"Yes well it seems that fairy's tales are told ad nauseam, I'm afraid."

"And yet there are some tales not yet told, how do you suppose that is?" her eyes sparkled with interest.

"Is there a particular tale you're searching for?" he asked, clueless that it was his story which had intrigued her.

Deverell entered the office, today's correspondence in his hand. "Your majesty, milady, I beg your pardons. I was just about to set to answering the day's mail."

"No need to apologize Deverell, you have your business to attend to and I have books which I must read. If you men will excuse me," Sarah replied.

Jareth stood in respect when she moved to leave. "Just a minute milady," Deverell halted her exit. "You've received a letter."

Before Sarah could get her hands on the envelope Jareth snatched from his assistant's hand, "From whom?"

"I think that's my personal business," she reminded him. Begrudgingly he handed her the envelope. "It's from Tiberon." The king's blood boiled. Sarah's delicate hands removed the parchment from it's pouch and unfolded the letter, lilac fragrance filled the room and Jareth noticed the small flowers embedded in the back of the parchment. "It seems I'm invited to dinner at his castle tomorrow."

"You're not going."

"I actually haven't decided yet."

"That wasn't a question. I'm telling you, you're not going."

"I didn't hear you telling me I couldn't go when you wanted to take me to the fairy ring."

"That's different. You'll be with me." Even Jareth realized how stupid that sounded.

Deverell attempted to politely excuse himself, "No, you don't need to leave. Jareth I'm going to make this simple for you. If you want me to go with you Thursday, you'll let me make my own decision about Tiberon's tomorrow."

"But after what he did to you!"

"What? He didn't know that using magic would wear me out that much. It was an accident." In honesty, she didn't feel entirely comfortable going, although she couldn't put her finger on why, but Jareth's insistence that she stay, made her want to go more, more than the finely scripted invitation and scented parchment already made her want to go. "He obviously called you as soon as I got sick; otherwise, I wouldn't have gotten home."

"Right, you wouldn't have. I'm sorry I overreacted. Of course you can make your own decision. Please accept my regrets."

"Apology accepted. Now if you'll excuse me."

Jareth hated that Sarah didn't recall most of the events of the prior evening. He wanted to tell her how he found her, where he found her, but he didn't want to let on that he suspected anything had transpired between them. The king leveled his eyes at Deverell. "I'm most sorry your grace. I had no idea the post was from Tiberon nor that the lady was not to receive posts from him your grace."

"Do you need me for anything?"

"No your grace."

"Then excuse me, but I must seek the counsel of my servant."

When Arulan heard what had happened, she agreed that Jareth had done the right thing in letting Sarah make her own decision. Additionally, she reminded him that he could always watch through one of his crystals. "It's not a bad idea, but Arulan, I've seen things in my crystals before that I didn't much care for, in hindsight."

"'Tis a chance you'll have to take. You've got to keep an eye on her, especially if you think Tiberon's up to something."

"Maybe I'll get lucky and she'll decide not to go."

"Sure, maybe," the elf patted his chest with her hand reassuringly.

Lying on her stomach in her bed, her feet up and swinging in the air behind her. The invitation read, 'formal dress suggested'. It sounded intriguing. She was glad she had decided to go. All around her on the bed were open books, things she started to read and never finished, continually distracted by the wafting scent of lilacs when the breeze ruffled her drapes.

Arulan arrived with her ball gown early in the afternoon. "I've come to help you get ready miss, that is if you still feel like you want to go."

"Of course I still want to go," she said holding the dress against herself. She loved the idea of dressing up and having her hair done. It wasn't the butterflies she got when she was busy dressing for Jareth's ball, but it was exciting.

By the time Arulan had finished with her, Sarah's hair was elegantly braided to reveal two long gemmed earnings that matched the necklace she had chosen. The elf tried to tell her his majesty would be unhappy she had not chosen to wear the necklace she had been given, but she did not heed the warning. Her dress was cut low, laced up the front, full sleeves which set midway down her upper arm. The waist was cinched in tightly and the skirt was full. Tiberon had sent the gown with a card saying, 'if she would agree to formal dress he thought she would look lovely in it. She did. Polished head to toe, she was every bit the model of perfection she had been the night Jareth created her first ball for her.

As she had promised, Jareth would meet her at a quarter of five so that he could transport to the castle. She waited for him in the main entrance where they had agreed to meet. At first his eyes fell gently upon her, appreciating what they saw, but when he drew near and realized his mother's choker was not around her neck he became more infuriated. With his left hand, he grasped her shoulder. Riding crop in his right hand, he drew the cold leather loop under her chin. "You're not wearing the medallion. I think my instructions regarding the medallion were clear."

"It didn't match my earrings," she said flatly.

Closing in on her, now irritated by her smugness, his voice lowered, his tone more commanding, "You will not endanger yourself with this man tonight Sarah. I won't allow it." Sarah's mouth hung open, shocked by the determination and control in his eyes, a sense of domination she had never felt from him before. "If at any time, you're treated inappropriately, placed in harm's way, or find yourself feeling strangely ill, I want you to wish me to your side and I'll bring you home." He shook her, slightly, but pointedly, "Do you understand me?"

Her breath hitched in her throat at his display of aggression and while she hated to admit to being distracted, it aroused her terribly. "Yes," she finally managed.

"I'll be there to pick you up at midnight unless I hear from you sooner."

"Right, otherwise I turn into a pumpkin," she chided.

"This is not a joke. Go if you want to go. Leave your medallion here if it clashes with your earrings, but make no mistake about it, you are still mine, with or without that charm, there's not a fool in this realm who doesn't know that you belong to me."

Sarah liked the way that sounded, 'Make no mistake about it...you belong to me.' Suddenly she wanted to stay. Her emotions were all tangled up, which made her mouth blurt out, "We'll be late." Late for what? Was something going on somewhere? What about what was going on here? The king took her forcefully by the arm and the tingling warmth spread through her. Too late to change her mind now. Damn her stubborn head and hasty tongue.

Before the effects of transporting could wear off, Jareth was gone. Sarah stood alone on the steps to Tiberon's castle, staring blankly at the door, forgetting why she was supposed to be here in the first place. When the door swung open to reveal the Representative in his most formal attire, bejeweled waist coat and matching pants, a white frilly shirt, white leggings that met ankle high boots, just a hint of silver in the otherwise black attire, it was a not so subtle reminder. "I see you wore the dress I sent."

Still in a fog from the transport and from the king's fleeting words, Sarah shook her head, "Uh huh."

"Won't you come in?" She walked passed him, still not particularly concerned with being there in the first place. Tiberon took her arm and led her to the dining room. The leaves had been removed from the long formal dining table, leaving behind an intimate square and exposing a portion of the dining room. Soft music came from someplace, but Sarah didn't bother trying to figure out where. "Milady, might I have the first dance?" Without waiting for an answer Tiberon slid one hand around her cinched waist and clasped her palm in the other. His box step was dizzying as he held her at arms length. When the music ended they took their places at the table. Two glasses of red wine were already there accompanying the place settings.

'Odd,' Sarah thought, she hadn't noticed them on the table when she came in, but then again, she hadn't noticed much with Jareth's threat echoing in her head.

"To…friendship," Tiberon rose his glass for a toast. Sarah clinked his glass and sipped the wine, not wishing for a repeat performance of her last meal with the fey, she had already decided to be particularly careful how much she allowed herself to drink. "The bouquet is not to your liking?"

"No, no, I like it just fine. Only last time I drank, I got very ill. I'd rather not overdo it tonight." The wine warmed her from within. Sarah felt the drops rolling down her throat and plopping into the pit of her stomach. It seemed to do more than create a physical warmth, it seemed to warm her spirit and her heart. All those suspicions and hesitations burning up inside it's fire. Jareth had been on her mind, but she didn't remember why and the violet of Tiberon's eyes suddenly seemed alive.

"Of course not."

"If it's all the same, I'd like to remember this visit," Sarah's hand lay on his forearm causing the fey to raise an eyebrow at her.

"Well milady if it's a night to remember you've come looking for, that can be arranged." Perhaps this mortal would be more fun than he had originally thought.

In the center of the Labyrinth the king sat in the window of one of the towers. It was facing west where he could see the sun set. Spinning a crystal in his palm he focused on his mortal. Gloved finger clenched around the orb when he saw Sarah's hand upon Tiberon's forearm, the glasses of wine between them which stained their lips to match the color of her cheeks. "Do not throw the crystal," he reminded himself. He continued to watch them, the hours ticking by. First they were served and though their plates contained the same foods in veritably equal portions, they insisted on sampling each others plates. Tiberon offering his food to Sarah and her responding in kind. True to her promise, Sarah kept light on the drink. While she remained awake, she was sipping so that slowly the effects of Tiberon's magic worked on her more obviously as her warm feelings for him began to manifest in lingering touches and deep meaningful stares. When once again Tiberon took her to the dance floor, he held her closer, moved her around slower. Jareth watched as the Representative drew in her extended arm and held it against his chest, bending his head to place quick kisses over her knuckles.

As he watched them dance on, he sung into the night, "I was dreaming of the past and my heart was beating fast. I began to lose control. I began to lose control. I was feeling insecure. You might not love me anymore. I was shivering inside. I was shivering inside. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry that I made you cry. Oh no, I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm just a jealous guy." Tiberon's lips covered Sarah's. The horror of watching her return his kiss forced Jareth to turn his wet eyes into the endless night, "I was trying to catch your eyes. Thought that you were trying to hide. I was swallowing my pain. I was swallowing my pain. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry if I made you cry. Oh no, I didn't want to hurt you. I'm just a jealous guy. Watch out, I'm just a jealous guy. I'm just a jealous guy." Jareth blew the crystal into the wind. Let someone else watch this, he couldn't. Not anymore.

In between dances, Sarah returned to the table for a drink. Her throat would grow so dry even when she was not speaking. Quickly the glass she nursed all night began to empty. Her delicate fingers wrapped around the long neck of the wine bottle. "More for you?" she asked Tiberon.

"No thank you," he told her.

"Suit yourself," she said feeling tipsy off just one drink. The wine seemed to flow from it's container in slow motion each ripple moving independently. Sarah's head began to pound. She tried to set the bottle down but it refused to leave her hand. Her head filled with images of Maeve, busily working a mortar and pestle grinding up a silver powder, dumping it into the bottle, replacing the cork and shaking it frantically. She then poured two glasses, one from the bottle Sarah now held, one from another bottle which had not been tampered with. The fey then set them on the table, the perfect untouched table. 'Must have been while we were dancing,' Sarah's weakening mind thought. The bottle crashed to the ground splintering into thousands of irreparable shards.

"Sarah," Tiberon called rushing to her side.

"She tried to poison me."

"What?" he was unaware the mortal had the power of sight.

"Maeve, she tried to poison me. In the wine," she choked. "There's something in the wine." The room began to spin. 'Damn!' something deep insider her shouted. 'Whatever you do,' she told herself, 'you've got to stay awake.'

"Darling, you should lie down. You don't look well. What's say I take you upstairs and help you to bed?"

"No!" she shouted. "I mustn't go to sleep."

"I really think it would be best Sarah. Don't you trust me? Don't you think I have your best interests at heart, love?"

When Jareth called her love it was so warm and sincere, but when Tiberon used the phrase, it came out mechanically, almost obligatory. And yet, she did trust him. "No Christian," her head was jumbled by this time and she scrunched her eyes as she tried to sync up her vision with her tongue, "I do not want to go to bed and you can't make me."

"Well I can," Maeve emerged through the servant's entrance. She chanted a few words Sarah didn't recognize, lowered her blood red lips to her palm and began to blow a steady stream of granulated crystals in the mortal's direction. It looked likes sugar in the air. It moved as slow as the wine had, slower.

From somewhere behind the mortal, the wind picked up. Her subconscious using it's magic to defend her body in it's weakened state. The crystals blew back upon Maeve so quickly she hadn't the time to respond, rather only time to brace herself with the table's edge before her own trick caused her to heap in a pile on the floor. Tiberon watched, shocked by what he had seen. Perhaps he had taken his uncle to lightly when the Sage tried to warn him what this mortal was capable of. Sarah swayed, weakened further by her use of magic.

"I wish you'd let me take you upstairs to bed," Tiberon told her as he steadied Sarah in his arms. "This has all been far too much for you to bear."

"Oh, let's talk about wishes," Sarah swung her arms in huge circles breaking free of the Representative's grasp. Her shoes tapped off the dance floor. "I had a wish once. I used it to make somebody go away. Does that scare you Tiberon? Did I mention he was only a poor defenseless child? He was. And you know it took me fifteen years to wish again. Once I did, everything I wished for, I got. My powers grew and I got stronger and stronger without even realizing it. One day I had the chance to do it again, wish someone away, and despite how awful it felt the first time, regardless of how empty it made my heart I did it, only this time it was a grown man, a king. And I," she smashed her hands against her chest, "I made him disappear. You had no idea what I was capable of such things, did you?" Her tirade paused for a moment. Tiberon watched, part of him feeling dreadful that she reacted to the medication this poorly, but only a small part. Sarah beckoned him closer, "Do you know what I'm wishing for right now, Tibby?" He shook his head from side to side, her fingers dancing over the sides of his face. "I'm not wishing for anyone to go away. Nope, no I'm not." His eyes rose, a sudden interest peaked by the mortal's desire. "In fact, I wish Jareth were here right now."

Instantly he appeared in the room. Tiberon shoved Sarah away. The king caught her in his arms. "Take me home," she shuttered, snapping her fingers.

The sight of Maeve huddled on the floor did not escape the king. "I don't know what you've done tonight Tiberon and I know you'll not admit it to me, but make no mistake, I will find out and when I do, you'll pay, if not with your life than by means which will make you wish you had." As he had come to do so frequently in the little time she'd been in the Underground, Jareth swept Sarah into his arms and transported them home.

No sooner had he set her on the bed, Jareth rung for Arulan. "What's happened?" she asked when she saw Sarah lying in bed in the gown, she had dressed her in earlier that afternoon.

"I haven't a clue. She must have wished for me. I was in the office making today's journal entry and the next thing I know I'm in Tiberon's dining room, she's slurring her words barely able to stand, Maeve's on the ground in a heap and the Representative is looking as though he'll be needing to freshen his tights rather soon."

"Drunk?"

"It seems that way, but I only watched her take one drink while they were together."

"Are you sure that's all?" Arulan's fingers worked fast at Sarah's laces trying to get her free of the dress and corset so she'd have more air.

"It's all I saw," he turned his head and said more softly, "while I was watching."

"While you were watching? When did you stop watching?"

Viciously he spat at her as he undid Sarah's shoes, "When they began kissing."

"It's just not like our Sarah."

"I'm afraid you haven't the foggiest what our Sarah is really like." The pronoun came from his mouth as though it had left a bad taste along the way.

"Jareth!" More than shock came in Arulan's voice, it was coupled with reprimand and Jareth heard it hidden their just beneath her surprise, accented on the second syllable of his name. "I'm calling for your healer, we'll let him decide."

Though the king was getting pretty sick of women constantly telling him what they were going to do, he allowed Arulan to call for the healer, who in turn came immediately when he was told, potentially, a drugging had been involved. When he arrived, the Goblin King explained the conditions under which he had found the girl, mentioning too, that Maeve was in the state she was in.

"Uh, huh. Yes, yes, that's normal," the healer went on with a series of succinct statements that told everyone else in the room positively nothing. "Who was it that suspected this drugging?" Jareth grabbed his temples with one hand, preparing for the worst and waved a finger at Arulan. "Oh, then perhaps I should steal you away to become my assistant for you are a perceptive thing."

"What?" There was relief in the king, but the anger overrode it.

"Oh yes, she's been drugged for sure. Something not terribly powerful, but it is hallucinogenic. Did the girl seem to be believing things she wouldn't normally otherwise?"

"I'll say," Arulan acknowledged.

"She's been very trusting and friendly with Tiberon," Jareth confirmed.

"That'll do. I'm sure she used magic within the last six hours, that, combined with the drug, has knocked her cold again. I'll mix her up something, but right now, rest is the best thing for her. Be wary that she's protected for at least another twelve hours until the full effects of the medication wear off as she'll be extremely susceptible to suggestion."

Arulan and Jareth looked at each other, both thinking the same thing. Now would be the time to plant a seed in Sarah's head, a tiny idea about falling in love with the king, which could grow into something more full and promising. Without words, both let the idea fade. Neither wished to sink themselves to the level of the Representative, "Send for Hoggle. I'll have him keep watch over her until the time passes. He's the only one I trust not to manipulate her in any way."

"Well, I'd best go and examine Maeve if you say that she's as bad as all that," the healer left promptly.

"Tiberon, I'm not going away. Jareth told me about Maeve's accident and I need to take a look at her."

"She's fine thank you, just took a nasty fall." Tiberon's voice wavered as he tried to convince the healer.

"Tiberon, when Maeve came to me asking to learn the art of apothecary, I conceded. I never gave her my permission or the idea to go about drugging anyone so that you could control them. Let me pass, so I can treat the woman or, by the Underground, I'll go straight to the Triumvirate and have you both banished."

Upon Jareth's advice, the healer went straight to the dining room where the Representative sunk to his knees and hunched over the woman's body frantically trying to wake her. The healer shoved him aside. "How foolish the fey can be sometimes. Always thinking they're the superior ones, never thinking they can be hurt or destroyed. Immortality makes you all mad. Bring me some water and a bowl, a wooden bowl." When Tiberon returned with the water in a wooden bowl, the healer added to it a potent herbal mixture that smelled like a combination of bog water and mint. By the palmful he spooned the mixture over Maeve's head until her eyes began to flutter. "You play dangerous games milady, and there are times when those we seek to destroy make us take a long look at ourselves. A taste of your own medicine should teach you a good lesson." He gathered his things, "Send her to bed, she'll live."

When he was gone, the Representative grabbed Maeve hard by the shoulders. "You've ruined everything!"

"No really, I'm fine, thank you," she spat back at him shaking off his hands. "You had no more clue than I did she was that powerful. "You and your fancy ideas. Jareth was already convinced you'd bedded his mortal. You're the one who got greedy, wanted just one more night with her. You didn't really think she'd want a vile thing such as yourself did you?"

The back of his hand cracked on her cheek. Drops of blood gathered slowly in the corner of her mouth. Maeve licked them a way. "You'll never do it alone," she warned. "You and a hundred men won't take Jareth, no one before you has succeed and you will most likely die trying." He swung at her again, but she caught his hand, pulling a small dagger from her belt, she held it to his throat. "Or you could die before you get the chance to try." When his posture relaxed, she released his hand and left, what little dignity she still had in tact.

"I don't need you Maeve." His hand rubbed over his Adam's apple. "I don't need you or Sarah. I have the Shadow King, better than a hundred men. I'll make the king defeat himself." Tiberon folded his right hand to his chest, the other lifting his wine glass from the table as he swung around to music no one else heard.

For the next couple of days the king ordered strict bed rest for the girl. She needed to be fully recovered before they began their work in the western sectors. By Thursday morning she grew frustrated with being confined to her room. "Arulan," she asked at breakfast, "will the king and I still be attending the fairy ring this evening?"

"I believe so," she said hopefully. "Would you like me to send him by so you two can discuss the arrangements?"

"I don't think he wants to speak to me."

"What makes you say a thing like that milady?"

"It's been two days and he's barely spoken five words to me. He's upset that I accepted Tiberon's invitation. Angry with me for showing his precious Maeve's true colors."

"That settles it," Arulan marched out of the room to gather the king. She returned moments later with Jareth in tow. "You two are going to sit here and talk to one another until you can manage to be civilized. I'm exhausted from smoothing things over between the two of you. Get along or kill one another, either way, it's fine with me!" When she left she locked the door.

"Do you believe this? My servant!" Jareth tried the door, which was indeed locked. "Unbelievable." He turned to Sarah who had pushed her breakfast tray aside and was sitting up in her bed, the duvet pulled tight around her. "Have you any idea what this is about?"

"I wanted to know if we were still going to the fairy ring tonight."

"I've been dragged from my study, tossed in here, imprisoned and all because you want to know if we're still going to the ring?"

"Well you haven't spoken five words to me in the last two days."

He softened at her half confession, "Ah, so that's what this is about. These last two days you were supposed to be resting. I've left you to rest is all." Jareth sat beside her on the bed, taking her hand in his. "Is there anything else on that imaginative mind of yours?"

"You're mad at me."

"Mad at you?"

"Angry with me. Don't mince words with me right now. You're upset because I accepted Tiberon's invitation and showed you the kind of woman your lover really is."

"Maeve," the king slapped a palm off his forehead. "We've come back to Maeve."

"Yes we've come back to Maeve." Sarah sat up straighter in the bed, not caring if the covers fell away and exposed her in her night clothes. "It always comes back to Maeve. That woman hates me, but you've been so busy worrying Tiberon would put my virtue to the test, you never bothered to concern yourself with the fact that she was capable of drugging me. What if I had died?"

Words like stone hit his heart. What if she had died? He thought he too would have to die by his own hand, unable to accept that he had set his own love up for the kill. "First of all, Maeve is not my lover, we were lovers once, a long time ago, long before you and I," he was going to stop there, but quickly added, "met," so as not to seem too presumptuous. "I am angry that against my better judgment you accepted Tiberon's invitation. I warned you repeatedly about him and you chose to ignore me. I'm deeply sorry that Maeve has done these terrible things to you and when next we meet with the Triumvirate I will recommend that she be punished, but let me remind you, had you given my plea any consideration you would not have been at the castle and Maeve would not have been able to hurt you."

"Do you still love her?"

"Did I not say our relationship was in my past?"

"Your relationship, but your heart carried on through the past, didn't it? You may not be her lover now, but do you still love her?"

'My heart,' he thought, 'remains in a time when a whimsical young girl once wore a silver-white gown, my mother's combs in her hair and danced with me as I sung to her my promises of eternal devotion.' Jareth cleared the lump settling in his throat. "I don't think I ever loved her to begin with. I wanted rid of the throne, wanted rid of my responsibilities to the Underground, Maeve was a woman I could tolerate. If I could get her to agree to be my wife, we could have a child and I could be free."

"Why didn't she agree?" Sarah asked.

The Goblin King closed his eyes and sighed a deep heavy sigh. Sarah noticed the dark markings around his eyes tinged in gold. With his lids lowered it looked beautiful, like a permanent sunrise. "It would appear as if Maeve grew interested in someone else shortly after I asked her to become my bride. You are living proof that I will tolerate just about anything from a woman, but infidelity is no way to begin a marriage."

Sarah's heart sunk in her chest. Her insisting upon seeing Tiberon, was it making Jareth relive Maeve's betrayal. But she hadn't made him any promises. What right did he have to expect her fidelity? "I'm sorry she did that to you. I know how much it can hurt when someone you think you can tolerate," his words not hers, "enough to marry casts you aside for some meaningless fling."

"Do you now?"

"God I swore I'd never tell you this."

"You don't need to tell me anything you don't want to tell me."

His blue eyes pleaded with hers despite his words. Unable to resist, Sarah's lips became flood gates burst open by a wave of truth that had long struggled to be set free. "I lived with Christian for a couple of years. We talked about getting married, but it was always never the right time. We waited to get our careers established. We waited to save up money, he'd spend it, we'd wait to save it up again. Karen's overbearing step-parent comment of the week changed from, 'I'd like it if you had dates. You should have dates at your age,' to, 'I only hope you make it official before your poor father has to wheel himself down the aisle by your side.'" Jareth smirked. In a very retrospective way it was funny. "I woke up one day and realized I was spending my time trying to marry a man who didn't know the first thing about me. I felt like such an idiot, such a child, thinking that if I loved him enough, he would have to love me in return, believing that as long as he was treating me like he wanted me, it must be true." Tears dammed her lids. A few escaping up and over the flimsy wall of lashes. "Then these visions started. Christian had borrowed money from his grandmother. She's a lovely woman, with very little income and she manages to save what she can so that she can leave the money for her grandkids, but Christian was her youngest grandchild and thereby became her favorite. He took a couple of thousand dollars from the poor thing and went out to buy some expensive clothes and a new watch. I was holding the watch one night, soon before I came back here, and I saw him. He met a jewelry clerk who was less than shy about her interest in him and they," there was no dignified way to admit this, "they had sex in his car. It pissed me off." Her cheeks grew red because of her use of the vernacular. "It made me furious that he would cheat on me, but what hurt me more was that as she walked away, having gotten what she'd wanted from him, he wanted more. He wanted to know when he could call her again. He'd had what was supposed to be a committed relationship and went looking for another one rather than saving the one he had. The girl refused him, telling him her intentions were more short term. Two years of my life, gone over a fling."

"It would seem our lives parallel more than we know," Jareth said pulling her by the wrist into his arms where her face hid beneath his fronds of golden hair and she allowed her tears to fall. When her sobs had given way to sniffles, Jareth held her at arms length and wiped away her tears. "This is all Tiberon's fault."

"No it isn't," she said somewhat angrily. "It's Maeve's fault."

"Sarah I don't mean to argue with you, but the drug you were given was a hallucinogen. It's altered your interpretation of the situation. Maeve was wrong for what she did, but think about it, she wouldn't have even been there unless Tiberon had somehow arranged it, the same way he arranged to have her attend our lunch. Neither of them is any more trustworthy than the next."

"So you forbid me to see him again?"

"No, I only ask that before you see him again you consider what your heart's true desire is." She stared at him as though time had frozen. Who was this Goblin King? "As for our engagement later this evening, I will be back just before dusk to take you to the ring, that is if you're still interested in attending one of those while you're here."

"Indeed I am your majesty," she smiled. "I'll be ready when you come to call on me." Before he left he kissed the back of her hand, his mismatched eyes never leaving hers. Jareth walked to the locked doors and cast them open with a simplistic wave of his hand. "But those were locked," Sarah gasped.

Smugly he reminded her, "There's not been a lock yet that has stood to hold me Sarah."

Long before dusk actually came, while the skies were still blue and filled with clouds, Sarah was dressed. She sat before her dressing table combing through her long, thick hair. She was glad to be getting out of the castle, excited to be participating in something foreign to her. The dress she chose was pale green with thin straps and lace trim along the edge of the skirt. She had white sandals to wear along with it. Her hair was tied up in a matching green ribbon. Around her neck, the medallion from the king which hung from a white satin collar which embraced her throat.

Arulan came in the room to help her get ready only to find the mortal already checking her appearance in the mirror. "Well I see I'm no longer needed."

"Oh, Arulan, I'm sorry. It's just that I'm so excited to be getting out after all this time in bed I feel like I could fly there myself."

"Well, you'd be the prettiest bird in the trees." Her hands held Sarah by the shoulders, "Let me have a look at you then. You're put together like a prize, you are. Here now, I've brought something for you." Arulan handed her a tiny box. It was pink with a white ribbon. "Go on, open it."

"You shouldn't have," she protested as she undid the bow. From within the box Sarah pulled a tiny crystal bottle.

"It's perfume," Arulan told her as the girl eyed the yellow liquid inside. "Cook made it fresh this morning. Honey, vanilla and jasmine, but it's pure so just a dab on you throat, your wrist and the back of your knees; otherwise, you'll wind up smelling as sweet as the bog does sour."

Sarah removed the stopper and applied the liquid as the elf had instructed. It was a sweet and airy scent. "Thank you," she said hugging Arulan. She noticed the elf was still in her house clothes, "Aren't you coming to the ring?"

"Heavens no. I've been to more of those things than you could imagine."

"What are they like? I've read the books, but what are they really like?"

Arulan took her hands and they sat facing each other on the bed. "There's song and story telling. A huge bonfire and all kinds of cakes and goodies. They'll be no less than a dozen species there, things you've never seen before. Dancing unlike what we do here at the castle, it's more ethnic, more ethereal. They can be very romantic affairs, enticing you to believe the universe is at your command. But then again, the libations flow like water there and that could produce the effect." She cast her eyes away from Sarah's, "You're going to have such a lovely time."

Guilt replaced her joy, "You don't mind if I go with Jareth?"

"Mind? Goodness no, I'm glad your going." If she stayed in the Underground a hundred years she'd never understand their relationship. A knock at the door sent the ladies to their feet. "Just a minute," Arulan called. "Mustn't let him think we've been waiting for him," she said softly as she winked at Sarah. Neurotically she straightened the girl's dress and the ribbon in her hair. "Perfect," she announced before finally going to answer the door.

Jareth looked at her amazed. Everyday something new and beautiful came rushing to her surface. "I hope you don't mind, but I'm a bit early."

"I hadn't noticed," Sarah lied. She'd been rather aware he had come early, his muscular legs covered in beige tights, leather to either end. For his feet, brown leather boots, his chest clad in a brown leather vest. His painter's shirt had long ruffled sleeves and was just a shade lighter than his tights. His frock jacket the same deep brown as his other leather garments. Brown leather gloves ever present upon his hands, one of which held his riding crop. "Will we be riding?"

"This?" he held the stick up. "Oh I suppose we could ride."

It seemed as if she had not seen Chataigne in a mortal's lifetime. "Oh can we?"

"Chataigne is saddled and waiting at the Labyrinth's front gate. Shall we?" He offered her his arm and off they went. When Sarah looked back, she thought she saw a tear in Arulan's eye. Not wanting anything to spoil the ring, she made it a point to forget what she thought she saw, although she felt cold when she did.

"Hello boy," Sarah whispered as she stroked the horse's blaze. "You remember me, don't you? I remember you." Turning to Jareth she asked, "Where's Bagheera?"

"Bagheera is a sensitive thing, not used to a lot of other unfamiliar horses being around. They'll be quite a collection of fell ponies there tonight, best we not try his patience."

"Of course, so we'll ride together." Jareth nodded, "But I can't ride in this!" Sarah's face sunk as she looked at her clothes. Oh, and she had spent so much time putting herself together.

"I thought that you might ride side saddle. It would be quite a shame for you to have to change when you look so stunning as you are." Sarah looked at him in that coy way she had been as of late, eyes all turned down, peeking up from the sides with a blush on her cheeks. He mounted the horse and offered her his hand. Effortlessly , she was lifted up and sat before the king, both of her legs hanging over the left side of the horse. "You're torso should face front," he said, "while your waist will turn and allow your legs to dangle over his side." Using the hand free of the horse's reigns, the king helped her into position.

Seems riding this way meant her bottom would be fitted into his crotch. 'Well if it must be done, it must be done,' she thought. Jareth placed on arm to either side of his mortal and split the reigns. When the king asked if she was ready, Sarah nodded, but gasped when Chataigne's trot made her wobble to and fro on his back.

"Maybe you best hold on until you get used to riding this way," he suggested.

"Hold on to what?" she asked frantic.

Jareth halted the horse. He took her right hand and put it around his waist. "There, now let's give it another try." As they road on, Sarah let her head rest against Jareth's shoulder. He was thankful for it allowed him the freedom to breathe in her scent more deeply. Honey, vanilla and jasmine, his favorites.

Occasionally Sarah would open her eyes and try to determine where they were. They rode west, she was sure of that, further north than Gandor's sector, not as far north as the waterfall had been. The last of dusk had settled over them in a smoky grey film just as they reached a thick wall of trees. "Have we gone the wrong way?"

Jareth smiled and shook his head. Urging Chataigne on, he nudged the horse between the widest gap any of the tree trunks offered. Just barely, horse and riders slipped through. Inside, a huge circle had been created by some very large and colorful mushrooms. It was like an Aboveground carnival. People milling about in all directions, drinking, eating, laughing. A group danced next to a small stage where a singer crooned. Their movements grand, high kicking and swinging arms, trading partners and then trading back. The king watched her eyes as they grew with wonder and the night was still young, with many more surprises. He guided Chataigne to where the other horses were. A few compared to the gelding's stature, but most were lower to the ground, a deep onyx black with thick coats that grew shaggy at the animal's ankles and long tails that hung against the ground like a train.

"Those are the fell ponies I told you about." Jareth explained when he saw her gawking. "Very common among the wee folk." He dismounted and held up his hands, flicking his fingertips back at himself, indicating she should fall towards him. "Listen," he told her.

Sarah stood as motionless as a woodland creature who sensed peril nearby. One haunting voice began to fill the glen with it's melody. In her haste to obey the king's command, she had yet to take her arm from around him where it had landed when she came down from Chataigne's back. If the voice was haunting, the words were terrorizing, as they spoke all the things her head thought as Sarah looked upon the king, whose eyes closed as his heel rose and fell in rhythm with the song. Those three words echoed in the glen. Sarah didn't know for certain if everyone heard them or just her. Arulan was right, this was an ethereal place.

"That's Twink," Jareth said when the song had ended. "Sings like a giant, but she's only about the size of Hoggle's child. Come on, I'll introduce you." Ignoring the fact that her mouth was hung open, mistaking her being overwhelmed having been caused by the scene and not the song, Jareth grabbed her hand and they ran headlong into the ring.

"So you're Sarah," Twink said when they got closer. She was no taller than Hoggle's child, but she was sleek and trim, skin the color of peaches and bright blue hair that was done in a complicated twist, tendrils pulled free in defined curls.

"How'd you know my name?"

"Not many stories 'bout mortals in these parts, fewer actual mortals."

"Good point."

Someone shouted for the fairy from across the ring, "Gotta run. Listen you'll sing later right?" Twink asked the king.

"I don't know, I haven't really prepared anything. I've had a bit of a cold lately," he coughed to emphasize his point.

"False modesty, not your strong point. Sarah, you'll sing too right."

"I couldn't, I mean..."

"Look everybody sings here. Don't worry about it. Gotta go." When Twink turned to address the creature who had called for her, Sarah saw that she had wings. Proportionate to her body, they were thin, delicate, trimmed in blue with color splashed about the interior, shifting shades and interpretation as she flew away. Twink reminded her of an overgrown butterfly with the voice of an angel.

"That's Ilkor," Jareth pointed to a gnome who had gathered a small crowd around him. He wore a red coned hat, a crisp white shirt, baggy brown pants and loose green boots. It was like seeing someone's lawn ornament come to life. "He's going to tell a tale. Would you like to listen?" Sarah nodded anxiously.

"Your majesty, you've decided to join us."

"I have. What tale will you tell for us tonight?"

"Ahh," Ilkor drawled the expression out as he caused a hush to fall over the crowd. "Tonight a tale of love and suffering, a happy ending, but a permanent one." One of the listeners in the crowd drew in a sharp breath. "Long before people told tales about love and perseverance there lived a boy named William. From the time he had met young Barbara Allen he loved her." Ilkor wove the tale before them, a one man show filled with expression and physical movement that made one forget they weren't attending a performance. He told of how William pursued Barbara Allen relentlessly. Even serenading her in the rain until he caught pneumonia, which of course was typically fatal in that time. Barbara Allen visited William on his death bed and even there she couldn't reach beyond her selfishness. When poor William died, the lady moped about how she would perish just the same. Of course, she lived on years beyond William, but when she finally died, she was buried next to the man who loved her, agreeing to be with him in death as she could never be in life. "They were buried side by side beneath a tall, tall tower. From William's grave grew the red, red rose and from Barbara's grew the briar," Ilkor finished in lyrically rhythm.

The crowd erupted into a huge roar of cheers and applause. He certainly had a way of telling stories. When the praise had died down to a small thunder of accolades, Ilkor made his way to Jareth. "A fine story, my friend."

"Your majesty, you've not been to one of our festivities in near as long as my son has been alive."

"Timpin. How is he?"

"Just turned 75 last June. Got himself a great little stump not far north of here. He's met a young woman. Just a moment," he bent at the waist, placing a finger in either corner of his mouth a let out an ear piercing whistle. Two gnomes came running hand in hand through the crowd. "Jareth, this is my son Timpin and Zollie, his special lady." Sarah noticed that aside from Zollie's long pig tail braids and Timpin's short, white, full beard, the two looked very much alike. "Children, this is the Goblin King."

Zollie sunk to her knees. Timpin bowed, "Your highness."

"Oh, let's not be so formal now." He stooped trying to get closer to the gnome's height. "I knew you when you were just a sprout. My, but you've grown. Zollie, Timpin, this is Sarah Williams of the Aboveground."

"The legend?" Zollie asked her eyes wide like saucers.

"Just Sarah," the mortal told her.

Timpin took her hand in his and shook it wildly. "I can remember father's stories about your visit to our kingdom."

"I'm sure those stories have been embellished somewhat over the years," the mortal blushed.

"Not where your beauty was concerned." Zollie let out a tiny snort.

Ilkor laughed, "The perils of young love. Come you two, the maypole dance is beginning. Jareth, Sarah , why not join us."

"Milady," Jareth asked.

Around the maypole everyone had already chosen up ribbons, Sarah picked up a gold ribbon that remained on the ground. Jareth a blue one nearly opposite of her. The last of the dangling ribbons was lifted from the ground by a wood sprite. They alternated the directions in which they faced and when the music began they danced in and out, weaving around one another. Seeing Jareth engage in this kind of entertainment forced a smile on her lips. For him, watching her laugh and skip around the pole was less comical and more surreal. Everything about her was fluid perfection, she wore her soul on her sleeve, unable to hide her joy. 'She could thrive here,' he thought before banishing the idea in order to preserve his sanity. Eventually everyone was knotted close together around the pole. Couples kissed while they were already face to face. Strangers shook hands or hugged as a cordial greeting. Jareth and Sarah exchanged a sly glance. They noticed that everyone else had stopped to watch them, waiting to see how they would react. The king coughed and Sarah straightened her dress.

"Kiss her," shouted an elf in the crowd of onlookers. It began a chant from within the collection of maypole dancers.

"Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her."

"I don't think they'll let us out alive if we don't oblige them," Jareth chided.

Sarah looked up at him, her eyes smiling as she licked her lip subtly, "Then I suppose we have no choice." His glove spanned the back of her neck, forcing her head to tilt upward. Their lips met and the chanters hushed. It was a gentle kiss, but a passionate one. The silence was soon replaced by ooohs and awwws which caused Sarah's lips to spread into a wide smile, the king still attempting to kiss her. He gave up when she broke into hysteric laughter. Blush covered his cheeks and the corner of his lips curled as he watched her giggle, not yet sure whether to be offended by her response.

"I'm hungry," she said when the fit of giggles finally passed.

"Then we'll eat." In a separate section of the ring there were booths that served ales and punches, meats, cheeses, fruit and desserts like the ones Arulan had described. Sarah and Jareth walked along the many booths sampling the tasty treats until they were full and anxious to sit. The fires had been lit and everyone had gathered to watch the dancing and listen to the beautiful music. Jareth would describe the different species as they took the stage. Everything from the tiniest pixie to other fey. It was a great relief to both of them that neither Tiberon or Maeve had decided to attend.

A lively upbeat song filled the glen as two by two the attendants rose to join those who had already been dancing. Jareth stood before Sarah, his gloved hand reaching out to her. Sarah's palm slid tentatively into his glove. No sooner was she up and on her feet, Jareth swung her into his arms and began skipping her over the grass. His hand pushed her hip, leading her in the right directions as he smiled, disarming her. It was less formal dancing than what they'd done at the castle, but it was far more fun. By the time the song ended, Sarah's cheeks ached from smiling.

Twink took the stage again, "For those of you who've yet to meet the king's guest, allow me to introduce Sarah Williams of the Aboveground." The crowd applauded. Sarah suddenly realized that even without a microphone the voices of the men and women upon the stage seemed to fill the glen. Jareth poked at her side with his elbow. "Come on Sarah. Don't make me fly out there and get you." When she stood and began to make her way to the stage, to cheers and applause got louder. "Sarah dear, we were hoping you would sing something for us. Rumor has it that you've got quite a lovely voice."

"I couldn't possibly. I'm not very familiar with the types of music you play."

From the crowd came shouts of, "Sing us something from your world," and "How about one of your kinds of songs."

"I suppose I could," she said hesitantly. "One of the first shows I ever got booked in was called Oliver and in it I sung this song." Before she began to sing she cleared her throat. As Jareth had during her audition in New York, he sat mesmerized by the shear magic of her voice. Some notes were powerful ones and the king noticed his skin had pulled up in small bumps all along his arms. He was thankful for those long sleeves. It was a moment after the last note rang when the applause began. Sarah had focused her attention on where Jareth sat, hypnotized by his hands banging together. If she didn't know better she'd have said she could pick out the distinct sound of one leather glove striking the other. After a small bow, she returned to her seat.

"That was beautiful. There's your real magic," Jareth told her when she took her seat at his side, shivering a little as night came to the glen. He removed his frock and slung it across her shoulders. The garment still held his body heat. Sarah pulled it tighter against herself and slid closer to his side. In the shadows he smiled down at her.

The night wore one with more folk singing and Ilkor's tales of hard fought love that didn't always work as it had been planned. Jareth would lean over and explain some of the old English words to the mortal. Sometimes she was thankful, other times offended that he couldn't give her more credit, but she didn't let it show. They were having a fantastic time. In fact, were she to get asked, she may have even said, it rather felt like a date. To take it one step farther, it was the best date she'd had in a long, long time.

"It's almost time for the Gach Ean, but before that, there's a certain fey in the audience who has tried to escape from having to sing all night. Jareth get up here and sing for us before I have my brother turn you into a toad."

Before he transported to the stage, he patted Sarah's leg. Beside Twink, before the crowd, he told her, "Unlikely."

"Put your money where your melody is Goblin King," Twink told him.

The music began just a moment before Jareth's voice spilled over the glen. He looked directly at Sarah as he sung about beauty and moonlight. Continuing to sing until again his eyes met the mortal who laid her head on her shoulder and swayed as she lost her self in the gentle rhythm of his voice. Bent on one knee, Jareth locked his eyes on his mortal with a truth and a sincerity that touched her to the core. Though she didn't notice, the entire crowd had turned their eye from Jareth's performance to watch Sarah's reaction to his poignant last verse.

When she realized all eyes were upon her, Sarah looked about nervously and began to applaud. The tactic worked to distract them from her flustered appearance. She was speechless when the king returned to her side. She could only stare at him. "Well," he asked, "What did you think?"

"It was unlike anything I've ever heard before."

"Is that a good thing?"

"It's an amazing thing."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Her arm slid through his as she returned his smile.

Back on the stage, the band began the Gach Ean. The lyrics were short but incredibly serious, especially when sung by a satyr with a voice that echoed in the wood as he performed the refrain, "Nothing is certain, but I will die with you. Whiskey falls. I don't want to lose someone like you."

One by one the couples got up to dance a choreographed number they all seemed to know. For some it was the first time they had ever danced this dance, while for others it was an anniversary of the hundredth time or more. "Let's dance," Sarah suggested to the king.

"The Gach Ean is a courting dance Sarah. It's not the kind of dance one enters into lightly for the thrill of the dance. These people are either committed to one another or committing to one another by dancing." His hand moved in a sweeping gesture indicating the many pairs.

Timpin and Zollie were dancing, their eyes locked upon one another as tightly as their hands were clasped. Ilkor and his wife. The last wood sprite to pick up a ribbon at the maypole dance and the someone Sarah had seen her snuggling with when the dance had ended. "But it looks like such fun," she said grabbing his arm, her hands rubbing at the defined muscles beneath the silk.

"Sarah, how much have you had to drink tonight?" He stood quickly before he gave in to her tempting touch.

"I haven't touched a drop. Not wine or mead, ginger beer nor heather ale. I may never touch alcohol again." She grabbed him round his narrow waist. "You. You intoxicate me."

"I'm taking you home," he said decidedly, walking her in the direction of Chataigne.

"Good. Take me home, take me deep into the glen, or back to the waterfall. Take me any place you like." Alone with only the horses to witness them, her eyes danced over his face, eyes to lips, hither and yon again. "You are my king and I shall do as I'm told your majesty, I only beg that you take me," stopping their frantic roaming, her eyes locked with his, "tonight."

"Where is this coming from?"

"My heart. My head. Both if they've conspired against me, neither if I am mistaken. What does it matter? I have never in all my life felt as alive as I do this instant. The moon and the stars, they dance for me alone. This night, this magic, I want it to last forever."

"All good things must end," Jareth said as he mounted the gelding. "Give me your hand."

"Only if you'll take everything that comes along with it." On horseback she nuzzled herself into position between his thighs, thrilled to have his arms about her. Her left arm snaked behind his back. Her right forearm rested on his chest, her fingers twisting his hair. Halfway home, when the king hadn't had much to say, Sarah pressed her lips against his throat. If he'd have told her he wanted her to stop, it would have been a lie, but if he allowed it to continue, things would progress. He'd made his decision while he watched her dance under the moon that night. Unless he could love her, fully and completely, he could not love her at all.

Outside the Labyrinth, he tethered Chataigne. Just before dawn, Gribbin would come and take him to the barn. There was nothing to worry about. He transported the mortal to her room. "Thank you for accompanying me this evening. I had a pleasant time."

"A pleasant time. Your majesty, I could show you a pleasant time," her hands worked at the cravat around his neck.

"Sarah," he pleaded grabbing her wrists and lowering her arms to her sides. "I can't do this, not tonight," pain filled his mismatched eyes.

"Right. Well I wouldn't want to make you do anything, you didn't want to do." Her head hung as she slipped out of his frock and handed it back to him.

He knotted the coat in his hands. He wanted to do the same thing she wanted to do, perhaps even more than she wanted to do it. But without being able to confess the love in his heart, it no longer meant anything. The king couldn't find the satisfaction in just pleasing her any longer. He wanted to please them both, but as he told his mortal, not tonight.


	28. Chapter 27

**CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN - THE VISIT TO THE SOUTHWEST**

Breakfast came late Friday morning. Jareth's servant, ever hopeful that his majesty would confess his true feelings for the mortal, thought they may have gotten in late and would like to sleep in. "Good morning your majesty," she sang as she brought in his tray.

"Is it?"

"Oh, come now, you're just groggy," the elf commented when she saw the dark circles under his eyes. "What time did you get in last night?"

"I don't remember, late, sometime after midnight," Jareth stared blankly at the ceiling refusing to acknowledge her presence in his room.

"What time did you get to bed?"

"It's on my to do list."

"Did you at least have a good time?" Arulan was nothing if she wasn't persistent.

The king slid up so that his back rested against his intricately carved headboard, "I had the time of my life Arulan, and that's saying quite a bit. Ilkor was there. He reminded me how many years have passed since I last attended a ring. It's been too long." A whimsical haze clouded his eyes, "The music, the dancing, the food, the maypole. Twink was running the show. Some things never change. She got Sarah to sing."

"What did she sing?"

"Some tune from one of the shows she's done."

"Lovely I bet," Arulan guessed as she removed the silver dome from over Jareth's breakfast.

Jareth picked at his food, "More than lovely. The words, I don't know what it is with mortals, but I wonder if they ever listen to the words in their songs. The way it talked about a secret devotion, a woman who had feelings for some man who didn't always behave the way other people thought he should. Not a particularly nice man I assume, but she loved him dearly, though she wouldn't admit it." A heavy sigh and he continued, "It got me wishfully thinking I suppose."

"Why not? You don't know for certain that Sarah didn't choose that song so you would hear those words. She's never behaved like your average mortal in any situation she's been in up until now, let's not make her one over this! Jareth," her voice pleaded, "You've got to tell her."

"How? How do you tell someone who's so young in the scheme of things that you want to offer them forever? She didn't understand then, I doubt she will now. How do I ask her to give up her friends, her family, her career, everything she has ever known? You don't just walk up to a woman and say, 'Look, been thinking, and well, I love you.'"

"Well no, of course you don't do it like that. You two are leaving for Gandor's Monday, why not tell her while you're there."

"We'll be busy. There's so much to see. The workshop is going to be in full swing. She'll want to visit. Gandor will have tasks. And by the time we get to Elbereth's, it'll be the same thing." He sipped at the juice on his tray. "If I'm going to tell her, I have to do it in a way that's as special as she is, as unique. You didn't see her last night. She was so at ease, so filled with wonder at everything she was seeing and participating in. For a time I even thought that she might feel something romantic for me, but then I blamed it on the night and the magic."

"What happened?"

"The Gach Ean, she wanted to dance the Gach Ean. When I told her what it was, after we'd left, on our way home she said that I intoxicated her, she wanted me to, I mean us to...be intimate."

"And you rejected her?"

"What was I supposed to do? Take her off into the woods and have my way with her?"

"It's an idea," Arulan said causing the Goblin King's jaw to drop.

"I'm surprised at you. 'Court her,' you said. 'Court her without letting her know you're courting her.' Next thing I know you're telling me to take her out to the grove for a romp. I surely wish you'd make up your mind."

"Woman take rejection harder than men," she said.

"Bet me!"

"Poor thing's probably so embarrassed."

Jareth noticed that Arulan no longer seemed to be paying any attention to him. Her thoughts were on how to fix what the king had done, or not done as it were, and he thought he was just being a gentleman. "Uh, immortal, afraid of losing the woman he loves and/or dying when she runs off with his soul."

"I'll talk to her for you, but I know this much Jareth, you have got to tell her how you feel. She's only here for three more weeks. I don't care how you do it, but you've got to do it and you've got to do it soon."

"It's on my to do list," he grumbled as she left.

Sarah's duvet was pulled up over the pillows, a near perfectly circular mound in the center of it. Gently, Arulan peeled back the cover only to be met by ten pink toes. "Sarah?" The girl twisted around beneath the blanket and popped her head up. "Dear, what's wrong?"

"Everything," she pouted then, feeling a bit childish, she smoothed over her wild hair, "Nothing, nothing that isn't my own fault."

"Why be so hard on yourself girl?"

"Please don't take this the wrong way but, you and Jareth, you have a relationship and I don't want to damage that relationship anymore than I already have. You've made me feel like, like I belong here even though I'm from someplace very different, someplace most people here despise. I just don't think we should discuss these things."

"Is this about what happened after the ring?"

"Oh God," Sarah shrieked. "He told you! Of course he told you. I'm so embarrassed, even more embarrassed than last night."

"What have you to be embarrassed about?" the elf asked, trying to settle the girl's flapping hands.

"It wasn't his fault. He didn't do anything." That was a half truth, the king had kissed her on the maypole, but he was taunted. "I was just so caught up in the night and I didn't want it to end so," she gulped trying to get the lump in her throat to move, "I threw myself at him. I practically begged him to make love to me, but he resisted. I swear and now I feel just awful about the whole thing."

Arulan smiled, "Oh dear, if that's all, what have you got to feel sorry about? The Goblin King is a complicated fey. He does things for strange reasons sometimes and I don't think anyone understands why but him. Just give him his space and let him do what he needs to do, that's how I'd handle it." To the elf it seemed perfectly clear. She had told the girl to be patient and let Jareth come to her. But what Sarah heard was that some times the king needed to do certain things and Arulan merely let him do it. Must have been that last night Sarah was not one of the things he needed to do. The elf revealed Sarah's breakfast. She only pushed it around on her plate utterly baffled at why Arulan let Jareth treat her the way he did. Arulan left Sarah's room shortly after she'd begun to eat, feeling as though she had done her part to get them together.

Embarrassed by her behavior with the king, as well as being embarrassed by her conversation with Arulan, Sarah hid most of the day. Between going to the king's office for books and reading them in her room, it was a relatively easy task. But the weekend was coming and dinners around the castle on the weekends were always a big deal. Sarah decided that she would ask to be allowed to visit Hoggle for dinner at least one of those nights. The king was just happy that she was asking to go there and not to Tiberon's. He gave her Saturday night. He wanted them to leave early Monday morning and that meant Sarah getting a good night's rest Sunday evening.

Late Sunday afternoon, while Sarah was flipping through a book about Sidhe, it occurred to her that Jareth had wanted her to practice magic this week so she didn't get ill when visiting the western sectors. He must have changed his mind because he never came looking for her. In fact, outside of their consultation about dinner, she'd done a good job of avoiding him altogether. Jareth was pleased to have the time alone. It wasn't because he didn't want to see the mortal - quite the contrary. He spent countless hours in his music room trying to come up with a way to do just that.

Sunday's dinner came and went without conflict. Everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts, even though their thoughts were basically the same. Deverell and Dalkeil had sent their apologies in advance, but they were going into the woods to meet an elf who would be crafting a sword for the young fey. Turgomon was busy making the arrangements for the visit to the southwest. When at last Sarah laid her head upon her pillow, she could rest easily, feeling as if what had transpired between her and Jareth was now just a distant memory of a silly misunderstanding. Mortals can be so foolish.

As the sun illuminated the Labyrinth, Jareth, dressed in hunter green breeches, a beige shirt and a black waist coat, met Sarah in the main entrance. She was wearing black breeches and a deep green sweater, upon Arulan's suggestion she wore a pair of gloves. "Not that it will be cold," the elf had told her, "but if you're playing in the snow, it'll keep you dry." A native always knows best.

"Gloves?" Jareth asked when he saw her.

"Took a tip from your fashion designer," Sarah leveled.

"Not in those boots you didn't," Jareth sparred back. After all her boots were mid calf, black leather, but they had no heel. Atrocious!

Feeding her arm through his, Sarah prepared for the transport. Maybe she could get through this humiliation after all. He didn't seem to give one iota that she had brazenly made a spectacle of herself. They arrived seconds later at the door to Gandor's ice castle. The Representative met them there, greeting Sarah first. "Look at you," he praised. "Lovely sweater, angora?"

"I think. Arulan had it made."

"Well she had it made with your beautiful green eyes in mind and that cowl neck, it frames your chin quite nicely. Oh, if I was only a few centuries younger and mortal," he feigned woe. "And you old man, how have you been?"

"I hate when you call me old man."

"Time to face facts Jareth after 150 it's all down hill." His white beard shook when he laughed as Gandor's full cheeks rose to hide his eyes. "Come in, come in."

"So what's on your honey do list," Sarah asked, chipper at seeing a familiar face she knew she could trust.

Gandor looked at her with confusion in his gentle eyes, "Honeydew list?"

"Mortal thing I suppose. Honey do list. Honey, do this or honey, do that." She waited for the recognition to set in and was rewarded with deep throaty chuckling when it came.

"Yes, well we have plenty of time for that. First let's talk. Jareth tells me you've been having some trouble with Tiberon." Sarah shot Jareth a look of betrayal. "Now wait," Gandor went on, "I told you once before that if he bothered you, you had but to let me know. So far as we Representatives go, Tiberon is a pup. Appointed by the third king only centuries ago. Me, I'm the Gavel's brother, I've been around for a few millennia. Let's just say I have ways of handling him." Gandor smiled a proud smile as he leaned back in a chair in the sitting room where he had led them and invited his company to do the same.

"It wasn't Tiberon whose been giving me the trouble, it's Maeve."

"Maeve you say," Gandor looked at Jareth.

The king had hoped he and the Representative could have discussed this privately, but since that was not to be, "Maeve was the one she saw with the actual powder, but I think they're in cahoots."

"It wouldn't surprise me if they were. Tiberon seems to perpetually have his nose in something, usually anything that makes you unhappy," he gestured toward the king.

Sarah's thoughts about Tiberon's motives started to swing out of the neutral zone and lean toward suspicion. Between the dream and now Gandor's take on the situation. Jareth had mellowed these last few days where the topic was concerned and without him applying pressure to see things his way, Sarah was able to start putting it together on her own. It was obvious Tiberon had put a lot of planning into the dinner, down to taking extra steps to keep Jareth away. Why would he just let Maeve slip in the back with a handful of dust? That spinning feeling she got the first time they had dined alone, it was just like when Jareth had given her the peach. Suddenly memories she didn't want came flooding into her mind. "On second thought Gandor, I think I would like you to have a word with him," Sarah said, still dazed by her returning memory.

"Just one?" Gandor asked. "I can think of at least two. Oh, no make that twelve, but only if I need to summarize. If you'll allow me, I'd be happy to elaborate in epic length proportions…"

Jareth raised his hand to the Representative, concern on his face, "Sarah are you all right?"

"I remember, that first night at his castle. I remember, just before desert I started to feel odd, kind of like wine going to my head, but then everything started to wobble and spin. It was like when I ate the peach. I asked him to help me just before everything went black." Her rich skin went pale. "Until...I don't know when. I just remember you being there."

"Sarah, don't work yourself up. You don't have to remember. It's over now."

Tears filled her eyes, "It's not over, something happened. I can hear your voice, low and loud in my head. It's not over until I remember what happened Jareth and I think you can tell me."

"You were weak and tired. True to my word I returned at sunset to collect you."

"Yes, you had to carry me because I couldn't stand. I didn't wake up until I was in your arms. Your hair was in my face, but my arms were so heavy I just tried to shake it away." Sarah's eyes closed tightly, her head shaking slightly back and forth. She tried to recall that night, piece together the parts he was leaving out. "You wrapped me up in a blanket, but I wasn't cold. I was actually very warm, too warm. The drugs and the exhaustion, I was dripping with sweat, but you," wide green eyes looked at him, dimmed with humiliation, her arms folded around her body. "I was naked."

"Sarah I'm sorry," the king said sincerely.

"He…he took my clothes. I was in his bedroom," the poor girl was horrified. It was everything Jareth could do to keep from taking her in his arms in an effort to protect her, but he had a feeling that a man's closeness was the last thing she wanted right now. Her skin was crawling at the idea of it all. "What if he…oh my God…what if he…"

Jareth ended her torment, "He did not." Even though he wasn't positive, he was sure enough. He needed to be, needed to be sure enough for both of them. "My healer looked you over thoroughly Sarah. Tiberon did nothing but create an elaborate scene that might indicate to someone that something more had happened."

"And did he succeed?" The king tilted his head in confusion, "Did he succeed in making you believe that something more happened?"

"For a time. You were acting very strangely. Tiberon and I exchanged a few words. His performance alone was very convincing. Then there was the fact that you wished to return to his home a second time, but when the healer said you'd been given a hallucinogen, I knew he'd used the drug to make himself seem more appealing to you."

"I didn't do anything. I wouldn't! I don't care what I've ever said to you Jareth, I would never consciously do those kinds of things," in her fury it crossed her mind to admit, 'with anyone here, but you'; however, she was still aware of Gandor's presence and concluded by saying, "not with him."

Jareth took her hands into his own. It felt strange with her thin fingers encased in leather. He thought for a minute if he must feel this strange to her. "I know," he said with the smooth consoling tones of a doting lover. Perhaps with too much emotion, for her eyes snapped on him.

A moment later she pulled her hands from his, unsheathed them from the gloves, wiped her eyes and inquired, "If you don't mind, I feel as though I'd like to bathe again today."

Gandor called for one of his elves, "Take the young lady to her room, show her where she can freshen up."

"Excuse me," Sarah said as she left the men behind, both of whom rose until she had left the room.

"I'll do worse than have words with him," Gandor growled. "I'll have his pointed little head on a stick." His thick fists crashed against the table causing a deep crack in the ice.

"Easy does it my friend. I've already been through being angry with him. Making us angry is exactly what he wants. Unfortunately Sarah has been made a victim by his games, but, she is resilient. I believe she'll be fine once she's had time to realize that she is not responsible for what was done to her. We, on the other hand, must play our cards wisely. We must outsmart him, that means first finding out what game the enemy is playing." Jareth drummed his fingertips on the table. "The Gavel wouldn't do me a favor if I asked him with my dying breath, but if his brother asked him, perhaps he could tell us something more."

"I'll pay him a visit as soon as you and the girl have left this sector Jareth, I've told Sarah from her second day here that she had but to call upon me." A pause came between them, broken when the Representative asked, "You have a great compassion for the girl, your majesty. More than I have seen you display with any woman. I wonder if the stakes aren't personal for you this time."

"He's causing trouble in my kingdom, that makes it personal."

Gandor smiled knowingly at him, "She's a very beautiful woman son, you don't have anything to be ashamed of."

Lunch was being served in the dining room by the time the mortal joined them again. This time the conversation was much lighter than it had been when first they arrived. "Well, hello there," Gandor boomed. "Jareth and I were just saying that thanks to your earlier visit, there isn't a whole lot left to be done in these parts. There's an ice jam in one of the streams that leads away from the lake, but we can deal with that in the morning. I thought that perhaps rather than casting spells left and right, you might like to lend a hand in the workshop while you're here."

"Santa's workshop?" she asked. Gandor nodded. Her face was lit by the childlike innocence Jareth had seen at the ring. "Are you serious?"

"Absolutely. He's getting down to the wire, he'll be furry red hat over his golden boot buckles to have extra helpers. I'll take you over myself as soon as we've finished lunch."

Though she tried to be polite, Sarah ate at the speed of light. She felt like she was nine again, eager to go and meet a man, an entire race, she had thought were nothing more than inventions of the parental mind. Jareth noticed her anxiousness and shoved his plate away, "I don't think I could eat another bite."

"Well, then I guess we're off." The threesome went north from Gandor's castle towards the puffs of smoke which rose from the workshop. Gandor had to duck to get through the front door. The inside of the shop was like a combination between the workings of a grandfather clock and an exploded toy chest. Belts and conveyers, springs and gears, all moving something along. Assembly lines of little elves in green tunics and striped leggings, painting and putting together toys, addressing tags and wrapping gifts. Dolls, trucks, sports gear, clothes, bears, anything any child could want hung from hooks or waited in bins or being freshly assembled in every direction.

Sarah's bottom jaw hung low when she heard the laughter of a rosy cheeked old man. Behind his wire rims, two blue eyes looked at her. Swallowing up her hand in his white gloves, Santa repeated her name thoughtfully, "Sarah Williams. Sarah Williams. I don't think I have anything for you." His finger rose to his nose and then reached under his red velvet, fur trimmed hat and scratched at his head. "You haven't asked me for anything in a very long time. Did I disappoint you one Christmas?"

Tears filled her eyes, "No, no, you never disappointed me. Somewhere along the line I stopped believing in you and I stopped asking."

Catching the falling tears on a hanky that he pulled from inside his coat, Santa said, "Hush girl. I've yet to meet the adult who hasn't done the same exact thing." He offered her the tissue, the tears she'd cried now turned to candy buttons. "Have one."

Sarah crunched down on one of the bits, "How'd you do that?"

"Wasn't me," he feigned innocence. "You must just be that sweet." His finger tapped her nose. "You're more honest than most. Lots of times I hear about how someone wanted a new car, but they got lottery tickets instead. This is a workshop, not a Chrysler dealership. They gave the tickets away, but what they didn't know is the tickets were big winners. Plenty for a deposit on a new car. Remember what you asked me for when you were eight?"

Shyly Sarah confessed, "A pony."

"And what did you get?"

"An English Sheepdog."

"Which…"

"Which I rode like a pony until I was eleven."

"See it all works out. And when you were fourteen, you asked for a castle."

Sarah remembered that now, "And you gave me an easy bake oven."

"So I did," he chuckled. "But I gave Jareth the news that Toby was about to be born and told him he ought to keep an eye on you." If her mouth wasn't gapping before it was now. As if Sarah didn't look shocked enough, Jareth's face was splashed with waves of horror and betrayal, his secret revealed. "See what people don't understand is that I'm Santa Claus, not a genie. I take what people want, consider what they need and try to ascertain what's best for them. Unless there naughty, then it's just coal, coal, coal!" His belly really did shake like a bowl full of jelly when he laughed. The harder he laughed, the more it shook. "Now, the holidays are upon us and I'd say your faith in me is restored," she shook her head to indicate he was indeed correct, "so tell me what can I bring you this Christmas?"

Sarah looked at him. "I don't think I need to tell you."

"No," he winked. "I suppose you don't." A new found understanding between them, they walked on, "Come, I'll let you work in the paint shop with some of my elves." Jareth's jaw dropped as his eyes pleaded with Gandor for some explanation. The Representative only shrugged and followed behind the mortal. "Your majesty, I thought we'd put those muscles of yours to good use, loading my sacks."

"Surely you're not suggesting that as a king I engage in manual labor?"

"Do you want coal again this year?" Santa's bushy eyebrows furrowed at the king's attempt to weasel out of helping.

"Well I find it incredibly unfair that you take one's profession into account when doling out these gifts of yours."

"Really, I wonder what your basis for comparison is?" Even the Representative had to chuckle at Santa's quick wit.

The Goblin King cleared his throat. "Yes, well, lawyers for instance, they still get presents don't they?" Righteous indignation dripped from his words, a wide smile indicating he felt he'd proven his point.

"Yes, I suppose some of them do, but I wouldn't say it puts any big dent in the season's budget." Santa smirked beneath his massive white beard, "If you'd rather, you could shovel the reindeer stalls."

"No, no, I'll stuff the sacks. But there best be something more than coal in my stockings this year."

"Stockings?" Sarah asked. "Isn't it usually one per customer?"

"It is his kingdom," Santa sighed. "Furley, Roper," he said to two of the elves as they entered the paint shop, "this is Sarah. She's going to help out around here today. Now, no goofing off. I want you to make a good impression."

The elves greeted Sarah and hurriedly took her to an empty artist's table and explained to her what she needed to do. The dolls and other toys would come down the assembly line where they dropped into a bin. The elves each took a toy from the bin, back to their tables and painted it. When it was painted, they moved it to the drying rack and then other elves would come take the toys from the drying rack and move them to the finishing room. She couldn't help thinking how organized they all seemed. Hours passed quickly as she used brushes to turn fire engines red and center a pair of ruby lips below the button eyes of a floppy rag doll. It was three o'clock when the first whistle blew in three quick short bursts. All the elves dropped their brushes and scurried off. Furley waved to Sarah, "It's break time. We only get twenty minutes. Come on, come on."

She followed him outside. With everyone gathered out in the snow, Sarah could see just how many hands it took to keep the shop running, hundreds of them. Some of them skated around the pond, others played in the snow. Some found places to sit and play cards or chess. Roper was busy trying to roll the bottom mound of a snowman, but the ball of snow was now far too big for him to manipulate. Pulling her gloves from the waistband of her breeches, Sarah donned the leather barriers and begun to fashion a ball of snow in her hand. When Roper wasn't looking, she tossed it in his direction causing it to crack over his left shoulder. The elf jumped. Sarah laughed. When he caught her enjoying herself, he smiled. Furley joined in the fun, chucking another snowball in Roper's direction.

Before long about a dozen of them were involved in the battle. Somehow Sarah had managed to avoid getting hit at all. A few flakes of snow caught in her hair as the projectiles whizzed passed her head. The white was a perfect contrast to her black locks. Her cheeks were rosied by the chill in the air. Jareth watched from a hill, propped against a tree, where he took his break alone, without even Gandor for company. He saw her laughing, the contagious, full kind of laughter that caught among everyone who could hear her. Her small hands wrapped over her stomach as she exploded in a hearty guffaw. Just then, a snowball flung towards an elf who had managed to duck the blow, struck Sarah in the hip. It didn't end her laughter, just broke it for a moment. It was obviously a younger elf who had launched the blow. The tiny culprit froze with fear that he would be punished for his attack on their guest, but Sarah merely chased him until he was caught and then swung him around in her arms. They shared a smile as she returned him to the snowy ground. Jareth looked on, the snow now filling her hair with a thick blanket of white, like a lace veil that still let some of her rich black color show through. Beauty surrounded her, emitted from her like a light that shone brighter than the sun. He looked on, a smile he couldn't hide twisting his lips into a wide grin. The king's keen observation of her did not escape Sarah's attention. Rather she sent one of the smaller elves sneaking off armed with a snowball all his own and instructions to fire when he saw Jareth's mismatched eyes. Sarah watched intently, distracting him with her smile as the elf hurled the handful of wet snow, pegging him in his side. The mortal laughed twice as hard as she had earlier. Jareth smiled down the hill at her, raising his eyebrow enough to let her know he was aware of her role in this act of treason. After a moment he smiled back at her, like the snow collecting in her hair, trapped in the same web of elegance that he'd fallen prey to.

Moments later he charged down the hill towards her, grabbing her up in his hands and spinning her madly. Clumps of snow fell from her hair and pattered against his cheeks, but Jareth didn't care. "Sending your henchmen after me has its consequences you know."

"What may they be? Will you spin me about until I get sick?" Sarah continued laughing, "I should think you would rather get the brunt of such punishment."

"Right you are," he conceded lowering the mortal to the ground. Slightly off center from the huge circles she'd been swung in, Sarah stumbled back, lost footing and plopped into the thick blanket of snow. Still having quite a good time, she lie back and began to flap her arms and legs. "Good God, what've I done? Are you having a seizure?"

"No silly," Sarah reassured him reaching out, "give me your hand." Once the king had helped her to her feet, she turned around and looked down at her creation. As Sarah extended one arm in a presentational sweep, she explained, "Snow angel." Jareth couldn't have agreed more.

One would think that sleeping in an ice castle, on a bed made of ice, with nothing more than linens between the cold and the skin would chill a body to the bone, but that was the thing which Sarah had grown to love most about this sector. It didn't. Even buried knee deep in the snow, it was still comfortable. She awoke feeling rested and eager to go back to Santa's workshop. After the rousing snowball fight she'd initiated the day before, her evening passed entirely to quickly. Gandor forced them home at seven for their evening meal and this morning she had promised to tend to the ice jam in the river. It seemed as though she would never get back to the workshop. On she trudged, wedged protectively between the Representative and the king, through the snow to fulfill the promises the Triumvirate had made for her. A heavy sigh escaped her lips when they came to the workshop and just kept walking.

"You really enjoyed working there didn't you?" Jareth asked.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, I really did. I don't know, they're all just so cute and tiny. Besides, every fire truck I painted yesterday is going to make some kid happy in a couple of weeks when they wake up and come running down the stairs filled with amazement over a visit from Santa Claus." She was beaming at the thought.

"Good deedster," the king chided.

Sarah's hands rose to her ears, palm side up, "Kinda my job."

"Speaking of which," Gandor stopped at the bank of the river before the ice jam, "Care to have a go at this?"

The girl stepped up to the river bank, determination filling her stare as she took in the enormity of the chunks of ice blocked across the water. "Sarah, are you sure you're feeling well enough to attempt this? I mean after all..."

"After all," she finished, "I've had plenty of rest for days now." Her hand rested against the Goblin King's lapel, "You're here, nothing is going to happen to me."

Obviously flustered by her proclamation of trust in him, he placed his hand over hers and stammered, "Right. Well, then get on with it."

In her mind, Sarah concocted a vision of warm summer breezes and swiftly flowing water, a bright noon sun heating the earth from all it's many light years away. But no matter how she tried to focus on the elements, other things kept entering the vision. Warm summer breezes would sweep in over a beach like the one in the Northeast, only far less foreboding, and she would see herself with Jareth on the sand, folded inside his frock coat, warmed by what was left of his body heat. Not exactly the kind of thing that would likely melt an ice jam. It was no better with the hot sun. Too much like their adventures in the meadows when they were traveling to and from the mountains. The rushing water in her vision was meant to represent the river she'd come to repair, but it quickly arched into a waterfall, the kind she and Jareth had hidden beneath. Sarah gasped at the recollection.

"What is it?" Gandor asked rushing to her side.

"Sarah?" Jareth followed.

Opening her eyes, the mortal was disappointed to see hardly any of the ice had melted. "Did I do something wrong?" she asked looking at the king with concern. "What if the powder that Maeve used had some kind of effect on my magic?" Her voice was filling with panic and her eyes with fear.

Black gloves smoothed over her hair. "Relax. You know your emotions will effect your magic. I'm sure your just having trouble concentrating because of wanting to be at the workshop." Sure, that was what she was thinking about. "You don't feel nauseous or dizzy do you? Do you want to sit down?"

"I am thinking about going back to the shop," she lied. "I feel fine, I just need to concentrate." Closing her eyes she thought about a long hot bath, water steaming up around her, each muscle relaxing. In no time at all she heard the river flowing free again.

Gandor was whooping praise, as Jareth caressed her bare arm. "Job well done," he told her. Somehow accolades from the king always pleased her most of all.

"I'd say your job here is done. Now why not run along to the workshop and get in a full day's work, you slacker."

Sarah beamed as she ran toward the billowing clouds. "Shall we?" Jareth asked the Representative.

"Don't be a damned fool, Jareth. Run after her. I'll meet you at the castle for dinner."

Had his emotions become all that obvious? "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. Some things a person just needs to do. Speaking of which..." Gandor rose his eyebrows as he nodded in the direction Sarah had just run off in.

Jareth had started to run after the mortal, but froze in his tracks, "I thought you said..."

"I know, but I just better let you get moving before I lose your attention all together. Jareth, there is one thing. Why not go and visit Oberon while you're here. I know how much he'd love to see you, not to mention Sarah."

"I can't take her to meet him."

"Why not?"

Wasn't it obvious? "How am I supposed to explain bringing her home to meet my great grandfather?"

"Sooner or later, king. The choice is yours." Gandor turned to walk away.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Though Gandor pretended to ignore the king's question, he repeated it anyway. "What is that supposed to mean? Gandor? I know you can hear me. Gandor!" Giving up, Jareth used his magic to transport to a spot just a few steps behind Sarah before breaking out in a quick sprint and catching up.

"So you really like it here do you?" Jareth asked when he reached her side.

Sarah nodded emphatically as she slowed to a walk. "I've found something to like about every place we've been," she told him cheerfully, not yet willing to admit that being with him was that something.

"Even at Ranofyr's?" the king asked surprised.

"Aesthetically it's a wonderful place."

"Suppose I needn't ask what you find so charming about the southeast."

Sarah's eyes filled with hurt, her lip quivering as she queried, "How could you ask me that? After everything he did, the things I did."

Jareth's leather gloves wrapped around her shoulders, "I was talking about Hoggle." He watched helplessly as the tears began to fall. "Sarah, what happened with Tiberon was a horrible thing, something I wish you hadn't experienced, something I wish was in my power to undo." Slowly his palms began to stroke her arms.

"It's a horrible thing that I brought on. I should have just listened to you when you told me not to visit him." Sarah refused to meet the Goblin King's stare which kept her from noticing her heartbreak reflected on his face.

"Sarah, none of what happened was your fault. Tiberon took advantage of your compassion. He had absolutely no right to do what he did, and neither did Maeve."

"But I pushed the issue. I fought you to allow me to have dinner with him, I let him dance that way with me and when he kissed me, I kissed back." Sarah turned away from the Goblin King.

Though he didn't admit it, her confession was like a kick in his stomach, but as it had always been he forgot his own pain when he heard her whimpering. "Sarah," he called to her calmly.

"I'm no better than Maeve. Just when I think you might really be starting to like me and I do exactly what she did. All these years I've tried to convince myself that I deserved something better than Christian when the truth is, we're birds of a feather."

Rather than spin her around to face him, Jareth stepped before her. The forefinger of his left hand chucked the underside of her chin. "Sarah. You are better than Maeve, much better in a hundred or more ways. The truth is even if you had slept with Tiberon, which you did not," he reiterated for both their peaces of mind, "You still couldn't have betrayed me the way she did. She professed her love to me and then threw it all away in a moment of personal gratification. You have never professed anything to me," although the king wished very much she had. "You were under the influence of some very powerful magics. Nothing you did was within your control."

"It sure felt like it was."

His finger pressed her lips closed before he went on, "Nothing you did was within your control." Staring deep into her watery eyes he felt some of his hesitation melt away. She must feel something for him, if she was this upset at the idea of having hurt him. Jareth pulled away his finger and placed his lips lightly against Sarah's "Now no more talk of you being like Maeve or Christian or anyone else. You are Sarah Williams, an individual, unlike any other in my world or in yours, and I like you fine, precisely as you are."

She smiled, a soft short smile that wanted to consume her whole face, but she fought it back. "You do?" Jareth nodded. That wasn't so hard. "You don't act like it sometimes." Of course, she'd make it hard.

"Oh for the love of a pixie Sarah, would you please learn to take a compliment. I like you. I like having you here, I like spending time with you, I usually enjoy talking to you." Who was making him say these things. Suddenly he'd become a puppet, his jaws flapping as he uttered things he had no intention of saying. He reclaimed control, "But I'm still king. I still have appearances to keep up."

"And being mean to me, is that part of your appearances?"

"I'm not mean." Her eyes fell upon him sharply, "Not always. There have been times when I have been incredibly gentle with you."

"That's another thing. I lied, Jareth." His eyebrow went up in curiosity. "I lied when I told you sometimes, sex was just sex. For some people maybe, but not for me. I don't just traipse off into the forest with every attractive man I see."

"So you find me attractive," modesty was not the king's best quality.

"You know I do. We talked about that. But it's more than that."

"More?" He was feeling particularly hopeful at this.

"I don't know. I mean, I've grown to trust you. I think of you," her head screamed, 'constantly', but her lips said, "as someone I can trust, like an older brother. Someone who watches out for me."

"As a brother," his face hung with disappointment. "Well I'm glad you feel like you can trust me."

"I wouldn't have done those thing with you otherwise. I know I shouldn't have, but I was feeling this tension between us Jareth and that's why I'm telling you this now. I don't want us to have that tension anymore." She thought of Arulan. Sarah had to do this for her. She deserved the king's loyalties and Sarah coming back Underground had ruined that. "I want us to get along."

"If you somehow felt that I pressured you into the things we did Sarah, I apologize," the king's head hung, his hands engulfing the hands of his mortal, as much honesty as he had coating his words. "It was never my intention to take advantage of your attraction to me in order to force you into our sleeping together."

"I never thought you did Jareth. I'm just saying that I respect what you've established for yourself Underground and I would never want to do anything that could damage it. A relationship between you and I could be," 'the most fabulous thing to ever happen to me,' Sarah thought. After a small pause she remembered she'd left her sentence incomplete "complicated."

"Isn't it already?" Jareth asked.

"You said yourself we have no relationship."

"I said what I said in anger. Any two beings who come in contact with each other have a relationship. Even if they're merely acquaintances. I thought you said you wanted us to be friends. Is that no longer the way you feel?" He waited for her to tell him he would loose this too, as he felt he'd lost everything else.

Sarah wiped the last of the tears from her eyes, "Friends? Of course we're friends. That's my point. Even though I found both you and Tiberon attractive Jareth, certain things happened between the two of us because I thought of you as a friend, someone I could turn to for comfort. I never felt that with Tiberon."

Greater devastation had not been known than to hear her compare him to the Representative. Jareth straightened his spine. "The only reason you were even attracted to Tiberon in the first place was because he used magic on you. It's no wonder you found no solace in him." For a moment neither of them spoke. Wishing now he'd have ignored Gandor's suggestion, Jareth rushed her off, "Go on, I know your anxious to get to the shop."

"Aren't you coming?"

"I don't think so," he said glumly.

"But what will you do while I'm with them?"

Mismatched eyes burrowed into her, "You may find this hard to believe, but I have been able to amuse myself a time or two while you weren't around." Without objection, Sarah turned and left. From the look she gave him before her departure, it became apparent heeding Gandor's advice would not be Jareth's only regret today.

For a time, the king milled about in the snow. He'd been planning some other way entirely. Arulan had helped him figure out exactly how he would reveal his love to her. What was there to confess now. Each time Jareth parted his lips to speak to her he made the situation worse. Now he thought he was just a compassionate, protective sibling in her eyes. Reaching to the frozen ground below, Jareth fashioned a snowball. Angrily, he launched it at a tree trunk. It splattered flatly, as had his heart.

"Nothing's worth this!" he cried into the cerulean sky that seemed to mock him. "Not a woman alive of any species knows a thing about what she really wants, not even when it comes crawling to her."

Jareth didn't remember how he came to kneel in the snow; however, he'd become quite aware of a flat hand against his back and the winds seemed to speak to him, "Some things never change." When the king spun his head around he saw the gentle eyes he remembered from his childhood. Every year at this time, he would come to the Southwest, to join in all the hectic readying for the holiday season. Every year he'd sit at the feet of the man he gazed upon now and listen intently as the man would weave a yarn of tomorrows yet to come. 'Some day,' it began identically each time, 'you will be king..."

"Was a woman that changed me, was a woman who changed your grandfather, a woman who changed your father and a woman who changes you, son." Jareth stood. "What now, not even a hug for your great grandad?" Lovingly, the new king folded his arms around the former king, pulling him close. Oberon's hand patted at Jareth's back in heavy thumps, "My boy, how you've grown."

"I was 74 the last time you saw me."

"Yes, but you've been by since then. Gwendolyn told me of your visits."

Never in all the years he came here asking what he could do for his great grandparents, did Jareth tell anyone that Oberon had refused to see him. He'd had such a great relationship with the former king before he was groomed for the throne. Jareth expected Oberon believed that once the throne claimed his grandson, the evil which had reached up to claim his son would somehow capture him as well. "Why have you refused me all these years?"

"Refused you? I haven't refused you. I've been expecting my son to speak through your lips, his cold heart to somehow beat within your chest."

"Darien loves the evil parts of himself too much to share them with anyone else. Of all the creatures in this world I would think you, most of all, would know just how big a problem he has with sharing anything."

Oberon let out a deep chuckle, "Too true. I was a fool. Gandor pointed that out to me just this afternoon."

"Did he?" Jareth asked with great interest.

The former king nodded, "Forgive me son, but I made a mistake turning away from you. And if you'll have me, I would crawl back into your grace on my knees your majesty." Oberon knelt before his great grandson, tears in his eyes."

"On your feet old man," Jareth spat down at him. When Oberon was standing on his feet once more, Jareth's eyes softened on him, "No king of the Underground, past or present, begs for anything, not even forgiveness." Once more he took his grandfather into his arms and held him there. "You are my only flesh and blood, least the only I would lay claim to." Jareth cleared his throat. Feeling intense emotions welling inside him, he held Oberon at arm's length and asked, "So it was Gandor who sent you looking for me then?"

"Yes," he admitted as he wiped the tears from his eyes. "He said he'd asked you to visit me tomorrow with a special young lady and I could help feeling we'd need to bury this axe before that could happen."

"How do you do that?" Jareth asked amazed by how freely Oberon displayed his emotions.

"What?" he watched his grandson nod as he wiped away another tear. "Cry? Oh my son, I've cried so many times I've long since forgotten the shame in it."

"But you were a great king, how did you manage your subjects respect while showing such weakness?"

"Forgive me if I sound antiquated," Oberon told him, "but the Underground was a far different place when I was chosen for the throne. Appearances didn't mean much. We followed custom, we did as we were told and as we were asked. We had a respect for the law and that earned us the respect of our subjects. Since," he choked a little as he spoke these next words, "Corwyn lost the throne, it has become a quest to gain the fear of the subjects in the Underground more so than their respect."

"You mean since Darien took over?"

"I prefer not to think of him. You're mother tried very much to undo him. She was a passionate woman who fell in love with a good man. You know that right?" Jareth nodded. "It's a shame what happened to Ian, a shame you didn't get to see the amazing couple they were together. She was magnificent and he only enhanced her. It was if there'd been a beacon added to the castle. Your mother was not always the sad and empty woman you might remember."

"Please grandfather, don't justify her to me."

"See here, I'm doing no such thing. She loved you Jareth, loved you as purely as she'd loved your father."

"She never even held me!"

Oberon put his arm around the king, "Walk with me son, let me tell you a story of a true and honest love that a fey was terrified to admit to and the pain that it caused. It's a story I'm certain you'll be able to relate to."

Sarah came walking up to the castle doors at the same time Jareth did. "Back for dinner?" she asked him trying to make pleasant conversation.

"Of course," the king admitted. "Didn't feel right making Gandor come to collect us after he gave us the better part of the day to do as we pleased."

"Right, me either," Sarah agreed. Only she hadn't thought of that until he'd just said it now. She'd been at the shop the last hour or so waiting for seven o'clock to roll around so she could see Jareth again. Sarah hated the way they had left things.

Precisely at seven, Gandor opened the castle doors and drew in a breath of surprise when he found both his house guests waiting for him. "Well, look at you two, home just in time for dinner. Don't just stand there, come on in." Gandor led them to the dining room where a feast awaited them. Jareth pulled out Sarah's chair for her. She smiled and whispered a low 'thank you' before taking her seat. The Representative carved the turkey while Jareth and Sarah passed the side dishes back and forth. Out of respect, Sarah made up Gandor's plate. "So how was the shop today?" the Representative asked as he took his seat at the head of the table. "Sarah, thank you," he said when he noticed his plate.

"You're welcome. The shop was busy. I had no idea so much work went into Christmas. They said they've been preparing since March and there's still a ton of last minute things they need to wrap up." Jareth chuckled. "What's so funny?" Sarah asked.

"Think about what you just said."

She mouthed the words as she replayed them in her head, '...last minute things to wrap...' "Oh," she did not join him in laughter, although the Representative did once he caught on. "I wasn't even thinking...I just meant there's a lot left to finish."

Jareth sipped his wine, "It's okay. I knew what you meant. I just found it to be a bit amusing."

Gandor sensed the tension between them and immediately took control of the conversation, "So Jareth, have you decided to take me up on my offer?"

"To which offer are you referring?"

"Why my offer to stay that extra day, of course?"

"Of course," the king drawled. "Well I suppose that depends on Sarah." The mortal looked up at the mention of her name suddenly very interested in the conversation. "Would you like to stay another day?"

"Can I visit the shop again?" she asked anxiously.

Jareth's face turned down, "I'm afraid if you decide to stay there are other matters to which I would expect..." Under the table, Gandor kicked him squarely in the shin, "Excuse me. Matters to which I would hope you might attend."

"Which matters might those be?"

"There is someone I need to see, someone who I think would enjoy meeting you," he told her.

"Who might that be?" she continued with a seemingly endless string of questions.

Gandor moved to answer her inquiry only to receive the same blunt boot which he had delivered earlier from the fey who sat to his right. "The question posed is not to whom we shall visit milady, the question posed is shall you stay on one day more?"

Narrowing her eyes at him, Sarah displayed a fraction of the contempt she had for that poker face that could slide so easily over the king making him nearly impossible to interpret. "Very well then, we'll stay regardless of where you plan on taking me."

"Good, in that case Gandor, the lady and I graciously accept your invitation to another evening's hospitality."

"I had a feeling you might," Gandor turned himself to face Jareth completely before he grinned at him with knowing.

"I don't understand why you can't just tell me where we're going?" Sarah asked as they marched through the snow. While she might not have known where they were going, she knew they were headed south from the shop because of the great puffs of smoke in the sky behind them.

Jareth huffed. "If I live to be a thousand I will never understand women. You want to be surprised, given trinkets and thought of out of the blue, special arrangements made for your pleasing and yet, when the opportunity for astonishment presents itself to you, you would rather know the details in advance. How is that?"

"I don't understand a damn word you've just said."

"In short love, women are a contradiction for which I have yet to, nor do I think I shall ever, find a solution."

Sarah grew angry at his remark. "Why do you do that?"

With a sigh the king asked, "What have I done now?"

"We were having a perfectly fine time until you began insulting me."

Eyebrows furrowing in confusion Jareth replied, "But I haven't insulted you."

"You insulted women, a group of which I happen to be a member and ergo, you have insulted me." Sarah stopped in her tracks and crossed her arms.

Jareth closed in on her, matching her edge with stiff posture and a stern look. His head sunk to match her level, his nose so close to hers she could feel his breath against her lips. Sarah's eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips, as they did each time he got within this distance, as her head rocked back ready and eager to accept his mouth. To her dismay, Jareth growled down at her, "A brother doesn't look upon his sister as a woman milady, in fact she appears to him as a completely asexual being whose only purpose is for him to torment and frustrate." His fingers swept across her left temple, cascading down the side of her neck, across her collarbone to the hollow of her throat before dipping over her breastbone. Jareth's eyes followed the path his fingers took until he saw a quick rise in her chest as Sarah drew a hasty breath. His eyes snapped up to meet hers, "Do I torment you Sarah? Do I make you frustrated?"

"I should say...not." Sure she had intended to be cold, but with her blood speeding up it's travel through her veins and so little of it left in her head, it came out more breathless than anything. 'Damn,' she thought.

"Right," he eyed her up and down in suspicion of her sincerity. "Well then let's get a move on, shall we?"

"If we are ever to get wherever we're going, I suppose we shall."

"After you then," he waved an arm in the direction she should head. Watching her walk on, her seat covered by black breeches, he couldn't resist commenting, "Lovely view in these parts, eh?"

"Indeed," Sarah agreed her eyes focused on the mountains and the pale white clouds which held in them patches of the immense blue sky. 'How like the eyes of the king,' she thought.

Another quarter mile or so and from behind her came his orders, "Just ahead on your left."

It was a modest dwelling, designed much like some of the homes from her world only built more with the primitive makings of a cabin rather than the sound structure of a modern house. "Quaint," she said.

"Yes, it rather is. Nevertheless, that's where we are headed."

"I'm not saying there's anything wrong with it being quaint." Something in his tone gave her the distinct impression that he thought she was somehow disenchanted with a home that wasn't made of sand or ice or the other spectacular castles in which she had stayed.

"I'm not saying that you are."

"But you had a tone."

"Does one's voice not always bear some tone milady, otherwise I would be mute or you would be deaf. The choice is yours." He knew the meaning of the accusation Sarah leveled at him, but Jareth had discovered how much fun toying with her was and he wasn't about to allow fun to pass him by.

"Your incorrigible, do you know that?"

"No, but hum a few bars for me and I'll join in for the chorus." Sarah glowered at him, daggers streaming from her eyes. "Now be polite or I won't introduce you to the nice folks inside." Without even noticing, Jareth had walked Sarah up to the front door of the dwelling. His gloved knuckles folded over the door knocker, lifted it several inches and brought it back to meet the metal plate below then lifted and dropped the weight two more times.

Shortly afterward a gentle looking older woman, who appeared to Sarah to be fey from what she had learned in her stay Underground, answered the door. "Jareth," she spoke quickly, in a warm voice. "You came. He said you would, said you'd been talking yesterday and that everything was... Let's not dwell on the yesterdays when we have so many tomorrows to look forward to. Am I right? I'm only glad to see you at our door. Your grandfather is waiting inside for you." With that the woman took the king into her arms. From behind Jareth, Sarah watched the woman's eyes close as she squeezed him tightly in her embrace. Moments later, she lifted her lids having grown uncomfortable with feelings of being watched. Sarah couldn't help but notice the woman's eyes were wet. "Heavens me, I hadn't realized you were bringing a guest."

"My name is Sarah," she introduced herself as she extended a hand to the woman.

Smiling at her, she left Jareth's hold and stood before the mortal, "Sarah Williams. The legend from Aboveground. It is an honor to make your acquaintance miss."

"I would say the same, but I have yet to make yours."

Chuckling softly, the older woman smiled before introducing herself. "I am Queen Gwendolyn, Jareth's great grandmother, but you can call me as he once did."

"Please don't mention these things," Jareth pleaded.

"Nanny grand." There you have it. "Don't you remember?" Her wrinkled hand pinched a roll of his cheek between forefinger and thumb. "Cute as Dickens this one was. Couldn't much figure out his family tree and that was no surprise given..."

"Given that I was not a very bright child."

"Like a cat's whiskers you weren't bright. Most curious little imp I've seen in some hundreds of years, since my boy was a boy." Jareth knew by the far away glint in her eye that it was not Darien to whom she referred. "I'd find him hiding in the most unusual places," she went on. "'Nanny grand,' he would call out. I'll give you to the count of ten to find me. 'Only ten?' I'd ask, making it seem like some horribly inadequate period of time. 'Oh, okay, for you thirteen.' Always thirteen. I'd turn my back for a bit and then go in search of him only to find him beneath the bed or tucked in a cupboard. After a time he got more creative. Shimming up the curtains and perching himself upon the curtain rods in complete silence until I would give up and cry out for him to show himself before I called his poppy."

"Poppy?" Sarah asked.

"My yes, that's how he called his great grandfather. Jareth loved mischief, but never at the expense of upsetting his poppy." Gwendolyn looked at the king admiringly, "Such a good boy you were."

"Were?" he asked.

"Are," she corrected. "You know I meant are, you are a good boy, who is forever welcome here." Gwendolyn turned back to Sarah, "Enough then, come in and meet my husband."

"Yes ma'am." Sarah received a stern look at the formality with which she had addressed the former queen. "I mean yes nanny grand."

As Jareth filed in behind the mortal, Gwendolyn tugged his flouncy sleeve, "Fine girl this one is Jareth. Fine indeed."

"Wait till you get to know her," he muttered.

Oberon was inside, sitting in his favorite easy chair, a fey stem hung from his lips beneath a thin white mustache and a full thick beard. "As I live and breathe, the legend in my own home," he remarked when he saw Sarah come through the door. "It is my honor, miss, to have you here with us. Welcome." The former king's wrinkled hands engulfed Sarah's dainty fingers. Right away she noticed the warmth which came from him.

"The first king of the Underground, the first queen," the mortal eyed them back and forth in amazement. "It is I who is honored to meet the two of you. I've seen, I mean heard so much about you."

"Lies," Oberon told her, "all lies." He laughed at his own joke. "Now have a seat and we'll set to evening the score. You can tell us all about you."

Gwendolyn poured them all some tea and the foursome sat around the family room and talked about Sarah's time thus far spent in the Underground. "But really, enough about me," Sarah objected. "I'd much rather hear about what it's like to be a royal."

Gwendolyn chuckled behind her frail fingers. "Lo that I could tell you dear." Sarah looked at her confused. She had been queen, had she not? "You see, I was but a maid when Oberon and I met." That's right, now Sarah remembered. Atofina had told her about how she had to train Gwendolyn. "That's the funniest thing, there's yet to be one true royal couple leading the Underground. I was a commoner, that made our children half commoner. Then Darien was made to marry a true royal and Jareth's mother was born three-quarters royal blood. The Triumvirate was very happy anticipating that she would marry a full blood and give the Underground the closest thing to a truly royal king it had ever seen, but alas..."

Quickly, Jareth jumped in to cut her off, "I was born to a common father." Gwendolyn looked at him puzzled. "My mother found herself in love with a man that the Triumvirate did not approve of. While they were too late to stop my mother, they've since altered their rules to be certain that I can never have the same kind of marriage she did." He wasn't ready to admit to her that he was part mortal. Although, the Triumvirate had long ago christened him fey and taken away his human soul to replace it with the one he now had, well mostly had, Jareth still experienced some human qualities. Retained qualities that were both a blessing and a curse, a handful of mortal emotions that sometimes got the better of him, a stronger tolerance to iron than most fey. He wondered if his residual mortality wasn't part of what made him love Sarah the way he did.

"What on Earth are you talking about?" Gwendolyn asked surprised by his outburst.

"It's true mother," Oberon chimed in, confident he understood Jareth's hesitation. "They've rewritten the law so that a marriage like Leanan and Ian's could never happen again."

Finally the former queen caught on. "I see. Well all the other laws of the Underground have been broken, I'm sure it's just a matter of time before someone gets around to breaking that one too."


	29. Chapter 28

**CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT - THE VISIT TO THE NORTHWESTERN SECTOR**

"I just don't see why we had to come home so early," Sarah repeated after Jareth got done telling Arulan what happened with Oberon. "I liked your poppy and nanny grand."

"Yes well, they are much older than you realize and I'm sure they tucked themselves into bed right after we left," Jareth explained.

Sarah wrinkled her forehead, "It was barely after six when we left. Gwendolyn had made dinner and you told her we couldn't possibly stay."

"Well, you heard Oberon, they didn't have enough food for both of us."

"They had four Cornish hens!"

"And you heard as well as I did when Oberon announced he intended to eat two of them on his own." The king managed to counter each of her points. "Besides, we were already there a day longer than had been intended, we do still have the northwest to visit."

Finally something she couldn't argue with. Jareth breathed a sigh of relief. "Well I still think we could have at least stayed for dinner when we were invited." 'No harm in saying it just once more,' she thought. Arulan had chef prepare them a lovely bisque and for the main course some pasta. Sarah shoved her noodles around her plate, only now beginning to notice that no one was at the dinning table with her besides the king and his servant. "Where's everyone else?"

Arulan spoke up, "Lots to be done around the castle I'm afraid. Deverell has been doing quite a bit with the goblins in response to their requests. It's all busy, busy, busy 'round here these days." She followed her comment with nervous laughter. "Speaking of busy, I really ought to see to cleaning my room."

"Arulan, I've been in your room, it's pristine." Jareth looked at her with suspicious eyes.

"Well as busy I've been these last couple of days, I've let it slide. If you'll excuse me your grace, milady." With a slight curtsy she left the two alone to finish their meal.

"Do you get the feeling that someone is trying to see that we're left alone?" Jareth asked.

"Nonsense," Sarah replied. "Why would Arulan want to do that"

"Why indeed?"

Sleep was restless that night for both the king and the mortal. It had only just occurred to Jareth when he was with his great grandparents, that he had been hiding more from Sarah than just his love for her. He was hiding his lineage, keeping her from seeing his mother's pension for mortals had been passed on. It was all making him feel rather burdened. He'd been working hard trying to find the right way to finally confess to his mortal. After a week of testing and tampering with words, the Goblin King decided that he would never find the right way, the right time. Tonight's fiasco only made the fact more glaringly apparent. As he'd told Sarah at his great grandparents' house, the Triumvirate had made their rules. Made it so a marriage like his parents' could never exist in the Underground again. No matter the circumstances, they would never allow a fey to marry a mortal again. Jareth sighed as he rolled onto his side. Looking across the mattress, it occurred to him just how big this bed was when he was in it alone.

For Sarah it was a bit different. Jareth had said something which struck her oddly at first, but with all the excitement of the shop and meeting the first king and queen she'd forgotten. Now lying in bed, she had nothing to do but think and think she did. Jareth had told her that none of what Tiberon did had been her fault, that she was under the influence of some very powerful magics. At first she found herself acknowledging his expertise in this area. After all Jareth did use magic, rather regularly as it were, now that his powers had been fully restored. A wave of his hand to finish dressing, if they were out and forgotten something, poof, and it was suddenly with them. 'Oh yes, he had used an awful lot of magic,' she thought. The next idea to cross her mind was that Jareth had somehow managed to use his magic in order to manipulate her feelings for him in some manner.

It didn't make sense to her. The Goblin King had abducted her brother, tricked her time and again inside the Labyrinth, dropped her in the bottom of an oubliette where she could have easily ended up like April. Then, in a radical change of heart, he offered her all the dreams her active teenage mind could generate. Since then he'd been a lingering fantasy, tucked in the back of her mind, just practical enough to be lucid, just dream like enough to be accredited to the subconscious. Fifteen years later, the king returned to validate his tangibility. Sarah could no longer deny him. Not when, even as she lie in bed all these weeks later, she could still taste that first kiss, still feel his gloves on her skin, still recall the sensations his body could evoke from hers. Despite wanting to hate him, there was this kinship she felt towards him, this haven-like comfort that lulled her into a security she loved. A time or two she'd struggled with the difference between loving the feelings he gave her and loving the king himself. The first she would admit to, the later she would vehemently deny. Why would she find herself having those thoughts if he hadn't used his magic on her? How could she love a man who tortured her?

Tomorrow they'd head for the northwest, she would ask him there, she decided. At some point, Sarah would level him with an inquiry that would stop him from continuing his charade, then maybe they could move passed these generated feelings, do her job and return home. Tomorrow they would return to the sector where everything had begun. Their ride to the Triumvirate, seven days, spent nearly alone. There had been moments when he'd acted civil, short periods when he let down his guard enough she was able to notice his gentility, his noble qualities he kept so well hidden beneath his arrogance, sentineled by his pride. "Damn him,' she thought. 'Damn him for not just being himself and allowing nature to run its course.'

Though they both fought sleep, it eventually claimed them. Restless and filled with dreams, it was sleep nonetheless, well deserved and much needed. Even as the sun came streaming through the east windows, the pair yawned and stretched and fought the call to rise. Sarah covered her head with the duvet. Jareth opted to bury his head beneath his pillows like some mythical ostrich. Try as they might, morning was determined to come with or without their consent and they were doomed to the ritual visit from the perky elf who brought their silver breakfast trays together with her optimistic charm that was more admirable than it was welcomed.

Mechanically, they ate. Mechanically, they dressed. Jareth even found himself performing his tasks manually. When the couple met at the front door, there was a heavy weight which seemed to sag their shoulders and pull down the corners of their mouths. "Look at you two grumpy pusses this morning," Arulan said before seeing them on their way. "The sun is bright and warm, you are going to the king's favorite sector, the air is light and breezy, what's got you two acting as if the world might end any second?"

"Just tired of zapping all over the Underground," Sarah lied. Shooting a quick glance at the king, she noticed he seemed to grow even more disappointed at what she'd said.

"And you," Arulan turned to her king, "what's your excuse?"

Jareth looked from the girl to his servant and back again, "Suppose I'm just tired of having to zap her all over the Underground." He settled his eyes back on the elf, "You know what a home body I am."

Arulan nodded. Something was not right between them, but neither of them had come to her with any sort of details and she was no mind reader. Had she not been raised with such respect, she would have grabbed both of them by the shoulders and shaken them until they came to their senses, but rather she bid them good day saying only, "I hope the majesty of the northwest will shake the two of you out of these doldrums." Jareth closed his eyes this time, as he transported them.

When the spell had ended, Sarah and Jareth stood before a large rock wall. She could assume they were close by the waterfall where Sarah had found the leprechaun's gold, where Jareth had claimed her the night before returning to the castle, for she could hear the water caressing the stone before it carelessly slipped over the edge and dove into the pool beneath it. High above their heads rose the rock structure which spurned the waterfall. It extended on towards the mountains in a huge plateau where Sarah assumed it would eventually meet the river and begin to climb the mountain to its source. To their left the rock dwindled into a less and less impressive height which wrapped around southward in a cape, separating the area around the falls from the grove. Sarah recognized the shorter portion of the structure as the area she had climbed in order to mount Chataigne. They were facing the ledge just behind the falls. Praying the structure was comprised of thick stone, Sarah thought of all she and Jareth had done and just what close proximity it had been tot he home of the Representative. The rock they faced was misshapen in a very unnatural way, if such an idea made any sense. The stone became flat in areas, carved out, like a mining site from Sarah's world might appear. Jareth approached a flat portion of the wall and ran his hand across it. "It's here somewhere," he muttered.

'What's here?' Sarah thought as she listened to him grumbling while he examined spot after spot on the rock. Her mind was preoccupied by the warm sunshine that seemed to tug the corners of her lips upward as it kissed her cheeks. It was far too magnificent a sky to look upon one so sad. Arulan was right, this was too majestic a place for gloom.

A door in the rock face slid open, jerking Sarah back to the here and now while it managed to startle even the king a bit. "Hope you didn't have any trouble finding me?" Elbereth said as he emerged from within the wall.

"I've been feeling for the door for fifteen minutes," Jareth told him.

The Representative laughed, "Cave trolls, Jareth. They love to mine. Besides, their tinkering keeps me from getting too bored with my castle's facade."

The king rolled his eyes. His castle hadn't changed in ages, that is to say, unless you counted the presence of the mortal and her shattering his Escher room. "I have brought the girl with me," he announced, forcing the two, who had only briefly encountered one another at the ball held in the Sarah's honor, to direct their attentions to one another.

"It's lovely to see you again milady," Elbereth took up her hand and placed upon its back a quick kiss.

As she'd been taught, Sarah bent her knees into a curtsey. "My pleasure to accept your invitation," she said. Her eyes smiled at the Representative who she found familiar. Perhaps it was his salt and pepper hair, which he wore short, a rarity in this world, that reminded her of a method acting professor she had in college. As she imagined wire rimmed glasses balanced on the bridge of his nose, slightly magnifying his sky blue eyes, Sarah knew that were he to don a tweed jacket and carry a snuffed out pipe filled with cherry vanilla tobacco, the two could have passed for identical twins.

Elbereth returned her smile before he allowed her hand to fall. "Well then, I'm afraid there isn't much to be done around here. My wee ones tell me that you two have spent quite a bit of time in this sector already."

"Aye," Jareth confirmed. "Seven days."

"Yes, well they must have been a extraordinary seven days." Sarah blushed and turned away pretending to take interest in a passing fairy. "Every last corner of my sector is alive and buzzing. It's rather a perfect thing to be quite honest. So," he paused, "I excuse you, Sarah, from your duty to the northwest as your duty has been done here tenfold."

"Yes my lord," Sarah curtsied again.

Her skill for socializing with royals did not go unnoticed by the king whose eyes were pulled from her when Elbereth directed his next words to him directly, "Jareth; however, has a might of a task to complete before I can let him go." The king raised his eyebrow in surprise, "There is the matter of a certain leprechaun who's in the market for a new place to hide his gold." Jareth chuckled. Even Sarah had to hide a smile behind her palm. "Yes, well, I know they can be spirited little imps, but the fact is this, you torment him. Constantly harassing him and mucking up his treasure. Quidam is particularly upset with you and I can't say as I blame him. He feels you should be the one to drag his treasure from beneath the fall. Naturally he'll assume the responsibility for its being hid once more, but by retrieving his treasure Quidam feels, and I agree, you would have shouldered your portion of the responsibility for his most recent inconvenience."

"Used to be the little four foot pile of paranoia could take a joke."

While the representative attempted to reprimand him, his face could not resist lifting slightly at his comment. "Be that as it may, he's quite upset and I'll expect you to remedy the situation. Sarah and I will wait for you inside." Elbereth motioned for her to follow him.

"This will just take a second with my magic," Jareth said raising his hand and preparing to cast a spell.

"Oh, Jareth, just one more thing." His hand covered the glove of the king. "Quidam requested you not be allowed to move the gold by magic." Jareth's face screwed up, his puzzled expression asking, 'Why?' "He's worried that allowing you to use your magic would defeat the purpose of the lesson you're to be taught. The gold pieces must be removed by mortal means."

"That'll take hours!" the king cried. "Elbereth, come now, let's not forget that I am your king. This is a disgrace."

"Yes and as my king you made me responsible for Quidam and all my other residents. If this small favor will keep them happy with me and obedient to you, your majesty, then is it not in the interest of the greater good?"

Jareth stood, his mouth agape. There was no acceptable answer, so he relied on the honest one, "Aye," he conceded his defeat.

"I could help," Sarah offered.

Both men looked at her, questioning her eagerness. "Well?" Jareth asked Elbereth, seeing as how he was the one making the rules after all.

"I suppose it is the mortal way for them to assist one another and she did offer freely. I'll allow it. If the two of you are diligent enough, you can be finished by noon. It would be my honor to host your midday meal."

Sarah looked at Jareth, her somber expression reminding him of their hasty exit from his ancestor's home. "We'd be delight to join you for lunch," the king committed to the appointment. "Sarah," he extended his hand, "shall we?"

Only because the rocks they'd climbed up had felt so uncertain beneath her feet, Sarah placed her tiny hand trustingly into his as they began the descent. Elbereth smiled widely. "My little spies," he whispered as several tiny fairies fluttered near his head and shoulders. "I can't say as I approve of your voyeurism, but even if you had not told me about their stay here, I could have guessed it myself. The Underground is about to see more upheaval then it has in quite a number of centuries and you know how I love a good show."

"You know you didn't have to offer to help me," Jareth told her as they stood by the water's edge.

"I know."

"Then why did you?" he asked a bit more sharply than he had intended. "Wait. Before you scold me for my tone, I apologize. That's not how I meant for my inquiry to sound. I was merely curious as to why you would donate your time to manual labor when Elbereth would have been satisfied to entertain you while I milled about for hours on end."

"Because," she smiled, "watching you mill about for hours on end is far more entertaining than anything Elbereth could show me."

"Of course it is," Jareth huffed. His leather gloves wound around his hips as he stared down into the pool at the bottom of the falls. There was only one way to get to the gold if he was to be held to the caveat of not using magic. Dive in. Yet, the idea of brazenly jumping, nude, into the cool water didn't seem entirely appropriate given his and Sarah's history.

Intrigued by what it was holding the king's attention, Sarah leaned over for a look into the pool. "What are you waiting for?"

"You don't expect I'm going in like this do you?" He swept his hands over the elegant layers of his royal get up.

"So go in your underwear," she suggested. She and her friends had done it Aboveground rather frequently.

"If I were wearing knickers I might consider it; however, I'm afraid I'm lacking that particular layer."

"So summon up a bathing suit."

Jareth turned his attention to her as he removed his jacket and began working his painter's shirt out from the waistband of his deep red breeches. "Your kind wears a suit to bathe? That seems a bit ridiculous. After all, the point of bathing is to be able to reach all of one's parts, is it not?"

"A bathing suit isn't for bathing, it's for swimming."

"Then why not call it a swimming suit."

"Well it is a swimming suit, but," Sarah began to wonder if they would ever engage in a conversation during which he wouldn't manage to unnerve her, "some people call them bathing suits."

"Well here we don't have such a thing."

"So what? Under normal circumstances you'd just strip and dive in."

Jareth smirked at her, "Under normal circumstances I'd use my magic! But I haven't had the pleasure of a normal circumstance since your arrival."

Sarah wondered if that was supposed to be some kind of an insult or merely Jareth being Jareth. So as she wouldn't have to bother herself to be offended, she chose the latter. "You're the one who can't use magic."

"Oh well thank you very much for pointing that out," the king huffed.

"What I'm saying is that I never agreed not to use my magic. I could whip us up some bathing suits right now, if you wanted me to."

"I suppose that would be a good idea."

Sarah liked having the power. "Are you going to ask me?"

"Your serious! Unbelievable. Fine, fine, I'll ask you. Sarah," he rolled his eyes, "Would you..."

"Nicely," she added.

"Be so kind as to assist in this matter by preparing these swimming suits you speak of?"

Her hands smoothed over the shift dress she wore and the fabric began to change, becoming more stretchy as it conformed to the curves and divots of her slender frame. When her clothes had completed there metamorphosis, Sarah reached up and pulled her hair loose of the chignon she had wound it into earlier and shook her curls free. Jareth watched her every move with heightened interest. What was it about her that he couldn't ignore? While he was busy pondering, the mortal moved in on him, gathering up his shirt and slipping it over his head. Jareth's eyebrows arched. 'Yes,' he thought, 'this was what he couldn't ignore.'

"Do you mind sitting so we can get those boots off?"

"Huh, my boots?"

"Unless you want me turn them into flippers?" she asked.

Jareth sat on one of the rocks and pulled off his boots. Standing in nothing but his breeches and gloves was an odd sensation, but it was nothing compared to the feel of Sarah's hands as they settled on his waste and began to slide over his hips preparing to refashion him into one of these mortal bathing suits. "You know, I wonder if this is really necessary?" he asked as he felt his member begin to stiffen.

"Fine, wear your tights." Sarah backed away

"They're not tights," he growled. "They are breeches." Jareth knew how much they showed of his physique dry, he could only imagine what would show wet and with Sarah in this suit of hers, hugging her hips and showing the swell of her breasts and the narrow of her back. There was no sense taking chances. "Never mind, just finish what you were doing," he snapped. Before Sarah could criticize he added a semi-sincere, "Please."

Reluctantly Sarah stood before him and placed her hands back upon his hips. This time as she began to work her magic, the mortal kept her eyes locked with the king's. He watched intently as Sarah slid to her knees before him. Had she bothered to break the stare they'd established she'd have been eye to eye with a rather obvious expression of his excitement. When she was done, Sarah backed away. "Now that is you!" she cried.

Knee length baggy trunks covered the king's partially erect penis. They were black to match his gloves, but it didn't help to keep him from looking out of place in mortal clothes. Sarah smiled. "What?" Jareth asked before looking down to see just how oddly he looked. It was no wonder she was fighting back a smirk. "Yes, well, let's not postpone our duties any longer." With his hand Jareth motioned that Sarah should get in first. "After you." Before she could make it to the edge and dive in, the poor girl erupted in a hysterical fit of laughter. "What is it now?" Jareth asked impatiently.

"I was just picturing you in Speedos," she choked out between chuckles.

"What are Speedos?"

"Are you serious?" She examined his blank stare. "Oh you are serious. Okay, well they're like your tigh...I mean your breeches, only they cut off at about...oh, here." Sarah's fingers slipped along the edge of the leg opening in her suit. "And the waist is low...around here." She placed her palm parallel to the ground and indicated a line low over her hips.

"Honestly Sarah. I'm a bit surprised at you. Ogling me like I'm some slab of meat. Picturing me next to naked for your own amusements. I feel violated."

Pursing her lips, she grunted at his overdone method of chastising her. Then in perfect form she jumped from the water's edge, disappearing head first into the liquid blue. When she resurfaced, her hair stuck to her scalp, wild strands clinging to her shoulders. Long fingers smoothed the hair back down, as "This feels fantastic," slipped between her droplet covered lips.

Rather than jump in, his majesty walked into the shallow water and continued to step further and further in until the water covered his pale chest. "Let's get on with it then. Take me to where you found the pot of gold."

"Can I ask you a question?" she said in response to his directions.

"Can I stop you?"

"If you don't want me to ask, I won't. All you have to do is say no." Sarah dove under the water and through the foam created by the falling water. She resurfaced on the other side and immediately began to leave the grotto and head toward the huge black pot filled with the stamped gold coins. "How are we moving these things?"

"By hand," Jareth answered. "Was that your question?"

"No and what do you mean by hand?"

"Was that your question?"

"Knock it off!" Sarah's scream echoed against the rocks.

Jareth's neck snapped, shocked by her sudden authoritarian attitude. "There should be a sack on the ground some place, 'bout so big," he motioned with his hands, "brown."

"Got it. What are you going to use?"

"Was that your..."

"Don't! Just don't. You know damned well that's not my question."

The Goblin King grew very serious at her outburst. "I'll use the pockets in my suit," he said flapping the tags of two velcro pockets in the trunks legs. As soon as you teach me how to open them."

At his cluelessness, Sarah softened. She reached out a hand for one of the tags and yanked it open. It took Jareth a minute to realize the pocket had opened and his trousers hadn't ripped. "I see. Now look, I'm sorry if I offended you. How about this? I'll ask you a question and then you can ask me this question of yours. Fair?"

"Mine was kind of personal." It did sound fair, but she wasn't so sure she really wanted to ask him anything anymore. She began filling the sack with the gold coins.

Jareth's hands dipped into the cast iron pot, "Then I shall personalize my question as well. Have we a deal?"

"Fine. You first."

"No ladies first. After you."

"Never mind." Sarah threw her hand's up in frustration, "It's not that important."

The Goblin King sighed. "By the Underground woman, you make me crazy. I was trying to use my manners, but since you insist on my being uncouth, I shall join you. His right elbow rested on the rim of the pot as he lowered is eyes even with Sarah's. "The other night," Jareth began, "after the ring, when you didn't want to come home right away, were you 'turning to me for comfort' then?"

"What do you mean asking me a question like that?"

"You said you'd just been turning to me out of comfort, I'm just asking if that was one of those comforting proposals of yours."

"Never mind what it was. I probably wouldn't have asked at all, if you wouldn't have gotten me exposed to so much magic. You know I'm allergic."

"Allergic? To magic? You have magic of your own, how in any world can you say you're allergic?" Jareth asked.

"You saw how sick I got from what Maeve and Tiberon did to me."

"Sarah, they drugged you. It's very different from magic." His hand reached for her shoulder, but she shrugged him off. "What? You're afraid of me now."

"How many times have you used magic on me?" she asked through tears.

"What?"

"You heard me. How many times have you used magic on me? To make me find you desirable, to convince me that you were trustworthy, to make me care about you. How many times?"

It had been a number of years since Jareth's eyes had managed to appear so sad. "Other than transporting you Sarah, I have only used my magic on you twice. Once to give you magic and the second time when I enchanted the peach. Your trust, your desire, your capacity to care for me, those have all been yours to develop." He finished filling his pockets and headed back into the water. Just before he submerged the king looked back at the weeping girl who had managed once more to break the heart she held in her palm. "I would have never wanted you to have those feelings for me if they couldn't have been your own."

Every time, every time she struggled to let out the feelings she had locked inside, Sarah managed to unleash even the smallest confession, it became a disaster. As Jareth reentered the grotto, she tried once more to make things right. "You have to admit, everything between us last time we were here wasn't exactly our typical treatment of one another."

"The last time we were here in this waterfall or here in this sector?" Sarah didn't answer. "No matter," he went on, "either way. I hate to remind you, but I didn't have my magic when we were here last time. Not here in this waterfall, not here in this sector." Jareth filled his pockets once more, "If you're not going to help, give me the sack so I can get this done." He held out his hand palm up.

"I said I'd help and I'll help, if you'll stop yelling at me."

"I'm not yelling. Would you like for me to yell?" he asked.

Sarah looked at him as sheepishly as a kitten in a roomful of pit bulls, "No. It was just a question. I didn't even want to ask it anymore. You kept pushing the issue until I had no choice."

"Choice? Choice! Well let me tell you this, if it were my _choice_ I would use my magic on you...to send you back to your world, right now."

Chin to chin, she faced him, speaking sternly from beneath her tears. "Go on and do it then, send me home. Do you think I care?"

"No, I suppose you don't really mind one way or the other, but the Triumvirate won't let me send you home so I guess we'll both just have to be miserable."

Those were the last words they spoke to each other until the pot was empty. "How do you suggest we get the pot out of here?"

"Magic," Jareth said plainly.

"But Elbereth said you weren't allowed to use magic," the mortal reminded him.

"You really must learn to listen more carefully, Elbereth said the gold had to be removed by mortal means, he said nothing about it's container." The king snapped his fingers and the pot disappeared. "I'm sure you're as anxious to leave as I am, so if you would." Jareth motioned to the water, "I can change us into something dry and suitable for dining with the Representative when we get ashore."

Back on shore, he did as he had promised by restoring Sarah's dress and his usual royal attire. From behind the pot they heard a small voice, "One hundred nine, one hundred ten, one hundred eleven."

"Are you counting those?" Jareth asked the leprechaun.

Quidam looked up from his spot on the ground, "You're damned right I am. I don't trust you no further than I can throw you and that one," he indicated toward Sarah, "that one's a mortal."

"Have it you're way," the king stretched out his riding crop and caused the neatly stacked coins to topple over.

Tiny legs kicked at the air, "You scoundrel!" he shouted. "Even when you're made to pay for your wicked ways, you managed to infuriate me and you do it all for your own amusement."

Kneeling to help him tidy up the piles, Sarah told the tiny man, "There now, I'll help you get it all straightened out."

"Get your paws off my coins you filthy mortal."

Sarah's eyes filled with tears. Even the king had to feel a bit bad for the way she'd been treated. "You listen to me Quidam. I may have listened to Elbereth because he asked me a small favor for the greater good of his sector and therefore of my kingdom, but I am still the king around here and the mortal is my," Jareth looked at Sarah and said, "guest. I won't have you treating my guests that way. Now apologize."

"He doesn't have to..." Sarah attempted to drop the topic.

"I said, apologize." Quidam looked from Jareth to Sarah, wrinkled his nose, giggled wickedly and disappeared taking all of his gold with him. Such was the way of a leprechaun. "Never mind the fool. He didn't mean what he said. He was trying to be spiteful."

"He was just saying what everyone else has been thinking only too afraid to say it because of your being around. I know I'm not like anybody else here. I know my kind isn't thought much of Underground. I...I wish I hadn't ever wished.."

The Goblin King pressed his index finger against her lips, "Don't Sarah, don't do anything we'll regret. It was one remark, uttered in anger by a tiny man with a big mouth. It is neither truth nor popular opinion. Elbereth is expecting us. Let's not keep him waiting." Without argument Sarah let Jareth lead her around the rock structure and back to Elbereth's castle.

"That barely took you two anytime at all," he remarked as they entered the castle. "That's what I call team work." When no one responded, Elbereth took the hint. "Well then let me take you for a quick tour before lunch." The Representative led them quickly through the castle sensing that neither of them was all too interested. Sarah took note of the way most everything was fashioned from rock or accented with water. It got to be feeling as if she were walking through a piece of art. When their tour had ended, Sarah excused herself so she could ready for dinner. "Something's not right between you two."

"What's wrong between the two of us is none of your concern, but you should know Quidam called her a filthy mortal."

"He did what? Why I'll go out and find his gold myself if he wants to behave that way."

Jareth folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in one of the dinning room chairs, "You told me I had to do as he asked. Greater good you said."

"Quidam is my responsibility Jareth. I'll talk to him. He was wrong for what he said, but perhaps you ought to try not giving people such a reason to turn hostile in your presence."

Although it was particularly out of character for the Goblin King, he couldn't help thinking, 'perhaps Elbereth had a point.'

Before they left his sector, they each thanked Elbereth for him for his hospitality. In an instant they were back home. Just the two of them, standing in the foyer. Arulan hadn't been there to greet them, then again she probably hadn't expected them home so early. "It seems we've surprised everyone," Sarah said when she was finally able to open her eyes and look around.

"Yes, well, we're home and I've got matters to attend to I'm certain. The first of which will be reacclaimating myself to my throne and seeing that Deverell hasn't settled into my office too comfortably."

Almost pathetically, Sarah asked him, "What about me?"

"What about you?" That wasn't how he'd meant it to sound, "Your last two weeks here are to be spent rebuilding the castle and the Goblin City. Why don't you go see Hoggle? Have him get you together with Mason and see what you two are able to get done in the time you have remaining."

"Am I that big of a bother to you?"

Jareth sighed. He tried to keep her under his wing and she wanted to run. He let her run and she wanted him to pull her back in. How was he to win? "I merely thought you would enjoy seeing your friend."

"I thought I was doing that here, with you." Before he could situate his jaw, which hung to the floor, Sarah had already turned and run out the front doors of the castle. Without making eye contact with any of the goblins, she fled their city and stalked undaunted towards the interior Labyrinth gates.

Hoggle was there, spraying for fairies. "Not surprised to see you," he said.

"Really?"

"Nope. Knew Elbereth wouldn't want anything from you. Knew why. Know how come, so don't bother with the details."

"I suppose you know everything, then," Sarah said as she plopped down on the ground before him and began twisting a blade of grass around her finger.

"Not everythin'," Hoggle admitted looking at her with a great compassion is his huge round eyes. "Don't know why you don't just tell Jareth that you love him when it obviously makes you so miserable not to."

"Don't be ridiculous," the point of her index finger was beginning to grow dark from lack of circulation. "I don't love Jareth. What would make you say such a thing?"

"Just a feelin'. I seen how you get around him, all blushy and swoonin' like you do." The dwarf preformed a crude imitation that got Sarah smiling again. "Likes I said, I know why it is the northwest sector didn't require your attention. You were there seven days and in those seven days, let's just say the lands reflected yer feelings while you were there."

Sarah wondered if he meant her physical feelings or her emotional ones. Either way, they were both fairly spectacular. "So you figure that my pleasant mood must be a direct result of my love for your king?"

"Listen here, have I ever lied to you?" Sarah grimaced in his direction. "Since we been friends I mean." She moved to open her mouth and Hoggle cut her short, "Since you been back Underground?"

"No."

"Well I ain't about to start now then am I. If you don't tell him, yer gonna regret it. Yer time here is short Sarah. You've got 15 more days, my little girl, she's been keepin' count. Now I don't want to tell you what to do with yer time, but well I'm just encouragin' you to make it count. Be a little selfish. Do somethin' for yerself?"

"You don't get it." The familiar drops of water which Hoggle had grown used to seeing in her eyes and had come to expect were forming. "Someone like Jareth could never love me Hoggle. I couldn't even get someone like Christian to love me, how could you imagine that I could turn Jareth's head?"

"Girl, you sure those fireys didn't get to your noggin? 'Cause I get the feelin' they done turned yer head 'round backwards! Christian was a damn fool for not treatin' you better and I venture Jareth is no less a fool for treatin' you as he has. But Sarah, what's the worst that could happen? You tell Jareth how you feel and the absolute worst he could do is," Hoggle shrugged, "dip you in the Bog of Eternal Stench." Sarah laughed. "Honestly, the worst he could do is say he doesn't feel the same way. You lie low for the next two weeks, then home you go and you never have to see him again. At least you never have to live with the regret of not knowin'. Ain't it worse to say you don't know, that you were too chicken to try?"

Raising to her knees, she clutched the small dwarf in her arms, thankful that he seemed to perpetually have the right words at the right time, every time. "Hoggle, you're a pretty smart dwarf, did you know that?"

"Of course I did," He said as he patted her back and prayed that Jareth was half as smart.

Upstairs, Sarah drew a hot bath. Into the water she put a few drops of the perfume Arulan had made for her. Was she really about to do this? Indeed. She'd show up for dinner, smelling just right, looking just right. At dinner she'd remain very quite, stealing long glances at the king whenever possible. When the meal was through she'd ask him to go walking in the garden. First she'd apologize for the fighting they'd been doing lately, then, she'd remind him how much she was enjoying being Underground and lastly, she would tell him that she'd been hiding certain feelings for him because she was worried that she might offend Arulan. Prefacing her confession, she'd let him know up-front that she was aware how little time they had and that she only wanted to go home knowing that she had at least told him how she felt. The idea alone sent chills up her spine, even as it was submersed in the hot water.

She rose up out of the tub and folded a thick terry robe around her frame. She wished for a stereo because it would have been lovely to hear music playing while she readied herself. Sarah hadn't brought a radio with her, the Underground had never seen such a creation and so none appeared, but music played in her head. The same wordless song she and Jareth danced to at the ball. Sorting through the wardrobe, she found a blue dress, one which matched Jareth's eyes. It was longer than the other dresses, just about to her ankles. A spray of glitter that only caught in direct light, making it a subtle shimmer that teased the senses enough to make the voyeur wonder if it was even really there. The back dipped low, almost as low as the dress she bought for the auditions, but not quite. Her shoes had heals, covered in satin which matched the color of her dress, the tops were see through and hinted with rhinestones, making it appear as thought the heals merely clung to the bottom of her foot. Before her vanity, she applied her make-up. A touch of blue shadow, some eyeliner, mascara until her lashes looked like they were built to be an awning for her nose. Just enough foundation to cover the red blotches crying had put around her eyes, some powder to even the whole look and a dust of blush on the apples of her cheeks. Shaking hands prepared to smear lipstick across her partially open mouth. Sarah waited a moment until she was more steady and then stained her lips so that they were nearly blended into her face. A very natural, clean look she thought as she sat back to admire her work.

Stepping into her dress, Sarah slid it up over her hips and fashioned her arms through the thin straps. It fit her well. Slipping on the shoes she began to feel a bit like Cinderella. 'This is what I'll be wearing when I tell him I love him,' she thought. Could it all be real? Not just this moment, but the whole scenario, the Underground or it's king. How will she do it? Should she practice what she would say? Just let it come naturally? "No time," Sarah said as she stepped into her shoes and took one last check of herself in the mirror. She'd done up her hair in a quick twist, leaving some stray tendrils to dangle around her face. Everything was perfect, from her highest plucked up hair to the open toe of her almost invisible shoes.

Down the hall she stepped, a bit more quickly than she thought natural. A couple of deep sighs and she started off again, this time much slower. Knowing strides carried her through the hall, down the stairs, across the foyer and down the long hall which led to the dinning room. 'Get there early,' she told herself and it'll give you time to have a drink before dinner. Off to the left of the hall was a sitting room. Sarah could see the door was just slightly a jar, which intrigued her. For an instant she thought she heard the drowning echo of guitar strings. Her interest in placing the fading sound ebbed when she heard voices engaged in conversation.

The first a lilting female voice. "Jareth, it's lovely!" It could only have been Arulan and in revealing herself she had uncovered Jareth as well. As Sarah slid along the wall, closer to the door she overheard their conversation more clearly.

"I could only ever confess these things to you Arulan. Only you know of my particular circumstance. It has not been easy, living my life with my secrets, never being able to love as I have desired to love," Jareth said.

"I know how difficult it has been, but this will be your new beginning, this will be your chance to make up for all those years you lived without someone returning your feelings," the elf consoled.

Sarah's eyes welled with tears. She had come and destroyed them. Now, Jareth, who was furious with Sarah for insinuating that he would have to use magic on her in order for her to be attracted to him, was doing his best to beg the forgiveness of the woman he truly loved. Or so she thought as Jareth continued his impassioned speech. "I'm not free to love many woman, but I love you Arulan. I love you like I have loved no other woman who has held your spot in my heart."

Arulan audibly choked back tears, "I know that's not true, dear. I know that the woman who rightfully holds my spot in your heart will always be your true love, but I am just happy that I have you now, that I have had you all these years while she could not." There was a period of silence between them during which Sarah assumed that Arulan had lost her battle to hold back tears or the two were exchanging some sort of tender closeness. She wanted to walk away, but her own face was marred with tracks from crying, her make up smeared to her jaw line. Where would she go? Besides, best she hear the words coming from Jareth's lips so she didn't justify them later when he saw fit to have her back in his graces. It was Arulan who shattered the silence. "I have loved you like I have loved no other boy."

The earnest with which Arulan spoke hit Sarah like a boulder. She felt the heavy weight on her chest. But it was Jareth who replied with an appreciative, "Thank you," that turned all the hurt to fury.

Though her fists wanted to burst through the door, the mortal only pushed the already gapping door open, easy like a midday breeze, and stepped inside. Her hands folded delicately in front of her, the knuckle of her thumbs stained with mascara. "If only Tiberon had really cared about me," she began. "But even if he had, you wouldn't have allowed me to see him, would you? Because like mortal men, you acquire woman. Surely there is always the one which they hold dearest above all others, but there are a great menagerie of suitable substitutes allowed to gaggle in the wings." Her eyes rose from a spot they had chosen on the floor. Arulan's mouth fell open when she saw the mess crying had made of Sarah's beautiful face. "I apologize to you. It was never my intention to hurt you. After all, you have been perfectly hospitable to me during my stay. Perhaps I'm being too bold, but you deserve better than to be the chosen among many. You are a beautiful woman who deserves to be someone's true and only," she stressed, "love." Her eyes then turned on Jareth who was riddled by her words as much as, if not more than, the elf. "I have been someone's second choice for too long. I won't allow someone to be second choice to me nor will I remain part of some harem." Had she really just chosen that word? Regardless, she went on. "Try to be good to her, try to love only her. Make me as much a figment of your imagination as you were once of mine. I'll be gone soon and you'll have no reason to think of me. You should have let Tiberon have me when he had the chance. It would have been better for everyone."

"To hell it would have been," Jareth was on his feet and crossing to her. "If ever I heard a more asinine suggestion I can't recall. Letting Tiberon have you would be like gifting rare orchids to a squallering hog. Sarah, I don't know what your thinking of, but I'm certain you have something grossly askew."

"Do I?" Her voice was deeper now as hurt and rage united. It was far easier for her to hide the anger than the pain. Through sobs she admitted, "I heard you two, just now, from the hall. Confessing your love for one another. I didn't ask for anything to happen between us Jareth! Well, I did, but not this. I don't know what I expected, don't know what I was hoping for, but I don't want anything from you, not if it hurts Arulan, not when I am only a temporary part of your life and she has stood by you for so long."

The king was near laughing, but remained stoic as not to further upset the girl. "You're worried about Arulan. This porcelain face of yours, which I can only assume was dazzling at one point today, this marvelous dress, all so you wouldn't upset my servant." Sarah shook her head, side to side. "Then what was it for?" She looked away, hoping to find that spot on the ground which had served her so well earlier, but the Goblin King captured her chin in his hand and rose her bloodshot eyes to meet his intense stare. "Sarah, what was it for?"

"I felt badly about what had transpired between us these past few days. I wanted to apologize for all the hateful words. After dinner I was going to ask you to walk with me in the gardens so we could talk. I thought if I looked pretty, you might be more inclined to agree."

Waving his hand only a fraction of an inch before her face, Jareth reset her hair and make-up to near perfect. "So it seems, with you standing there looking just so, I am unable to deny you a thing." His hands fell upon her hips, a handsome smile lighting his face.

Sarah battled within herself. She loved to hear him talk to her this way, loved the feel of his hands on her, but Arulan watched on from the settee, smiling. Smiling? Indeed, a grin had turned up the corners of her thin lips, a twinkle reflecting from the tear in her eye, "Jareth, I said…"

"Hush woman." Sarah's voice cut off, but her mouth remained open. "Allow me to synchronize that which you have heard and that which you have thought. The relationship between Arulan and I is a special one, unlike any other relationship I have had with any woman. It is a very deep and, as per your instructions, true love, as any boy should love his mother. Do you understand?" Unable to produce sound and confused by his words, Sarah only shook her head. "When I was born, my mother handed me to her servant, a young and lovely elf with fair skin and blonde hair which shone as brightly as her heart of gold asking that I be immediately taken from her."

"Arulan?" Sarah asked meekly, new tears welling in her eyes.

Jareth nodded, "For reasons I still do not fully understand, my true mother, the Leanan Sidhe, chose to have no additional contact with me once I had been born. We sometimes shared the same room for meals. If I was playing in the garden, occasionally, she would sit and look on, but that was all. It was Arulan who saw to it that I was fed, bathed, amused. She was the woman who raised me. In order to keep her near, I hired her on as my servant. Much of my early life was, and remains, well hidden giving the right people very little cause to ask questions."

Wearing a proud smile, the elf met Sarah's eye, "It's true. You asked me once if I had any children and I told you, none of my own." Coming to stand at the king's side, she pushed away a stray hair that covered his eye. "But for all intents and purposes, this was my boy. My first, my only, my favorite." Was that a tear rolling down Jareth's cheek? Through her own wet eyes, Sarah couldn't tell. The king made a subtle gesture and Arulan left his side. She walked to the settee and from it's far side picked up Sarah's guitar and returned it to the king. "Here you are my grace. I'll leave the two of you be." She attempted to take her leave.

"Sit. You and your persistence are the reason for what is about to happen." Arulan obeyed the king's command. Sarah was slightly frightened by the way he had spoken to her, but it took only a glance at his face to see that it had been said in jest. "I hadn't intended this moment to happen this way. I was going to wait a few days, until I thought you might be willing to speak to me again and take you out the glen, or the waterfall, but it seems that now may be a better time and place." Jareth situated the guitar in his arms and cleared his throat. "Sarah, I have the most difficult time speaking to you. My tongue seems to curl up and my mind doesn't seem to work the appropriate way. My lips have entirely different thoughts where you are concerned. So with a bit of help," he acknowledged Arulan, "I wrote you this song, except I don't want you to listen to the music, I want you to hear the words, just as if I were speaking them to you." Sarah nodded.

The strum of the first chord echoed in the room as Jareth began to sing. The song spoke of loveless eyes, but how wrong it was for, through the tears, Sarah's eyes shone like the prettiest star in the sky. While he continued to play, Jareth spoke in time to the music, with so much sincerity it made Sarah feel weak, "I love you."

Upon seeing how unsteady she had become, the king abandoned the instrument to the waiting hands of the elf, who then quietly made her exit while the two were busily engrossed in one another. "I don't know what to say," Sarah told him when the power of speech returned to her.

Jareth gathered her hands into his. Resting his forehead softly against hers, he whispered, "Say nothing, not right now. Listen and let it sink in before you speak, if it is a day, if it is a week, I will wait as I always have. I love only you, Sarah Williams. I always have, from the moment I knew you existed, but none of that matters if you do not truly love me as well."

"How," she stammered, "how can you love me when you don't even know me?" Sarah's face was wet again, with a different kind of tear than had come before and miraculously these torrents had less of an effect on her make up, mostly due to Jareth restraining her hands from grinding at her eyes.

"I have had fifteen years to get to know you. I have watched you all this time. That which remains a mystery I will come to learn if you will allow me."

Suddenly, all the courage she had rallied after her talk with Hoggle abandoned her. She began doubting that her conviction was as strong as the king's. And what did he mean nothing could come of it if she didn't truly love him in return? "But I haven't had fifteen years to get to know you Jareth."

"And so we begin now." Jareth pulled back from her and touched his lips to her forehead, "We'll take things as slow as you want. I'm not asking you to tell me anything you don't honestly feel, but can you say truthfully that you feel nothing for me?"

Tilting back her head, she took him in, that raw, vulnerable king she had only seen when they were alone in the Northwest traveling together for the first time. "I can't. You know I can't." For a moment neither spoke. Then Sarah pulled his arms around her and rested her head against his chest. She heard his heart beating fast as he held her. Wrapped around his waist, her arms were actually trembling as were her legs and she was glad that his embrace kept her from sinking to the floor. "I don't know exactly what I feel for you, but I know that this feels good and right, even if I don't know all that much about you. I know that I like you, like being with you, most of the time I like talking to you." Jareth felt her smile against his chest as she repeated his words from a few days earlier. "But I'm terrified to say I truly love you when I feel unsure. You seemed so confident when you sang to me. I want to be able to say those words to you with equal confidence."

"I understand," he said. "Then allow me what time we have left to court you, properly, in an attempt to help you make up your mind."

Almost shoving him back at arm's length, Sarah looked at him, fear dilating her eyes, "Jareth, I have to leave in two weeks. Two weeks! What if after two weeks, I discover that I do love you?" To hear these words, even in this context, Jareth's heart skipped a beat. "Once I go home, how will we…what can we…" Since her lips would never find the question her head intended to ask, Jareth pulled her to him by the waist, covering her mouth with his.

It was a deep kiss, a warm kiss, conveying as much of his heart as had his song. From within he felt another piece of his soul break loose and escape him. This time Jareth didn't care. He only let it go. He would have let his whole soul go. In all his years, he'd never found someone he loved like he loved his mortal and he no longer desired to search for anyone who might, for no such woman existed. Sarah clung to him like a child with a favorite rag doll, fearful that if the kiss ended, he would disappear and she would find herself in some state of semi-dress having fallen asleep while readying herself for dinner. When Jareth finally ended the kiss, Sarah licked her upper lip, the taste of the king still prevalent on her skin. "Let's not worry about what has yet to pass Sarah," he told her softly. "We've wasted so much time already. Concentrate on what we have and trust that what is meant to be will come to pass." His palms engulfed her jaw, "After all, we should have never met again, you and I, and yet, as sure as sunrise, here we are. Nothing more than a grateful king and his magnificent mortal." Unmistakably, there was a tear coursing from his eye when he spoke those words to her. She felt it join with her own tears as he pressed his lips to hers once more. Finally, the king was free to kiss her with all the love that was in his heart…and that is what he did. From now on, that was the only way he could.


	30. Chapter 29

**CHAPTER TWENTY NINE - CALLING ONE'S BLUFF**

Gandor reached the Triumvirate just following the evening meal. He was greeted at the door by a servant and brought to a sitting room where the men were enjoying a glass of brandy and discussing recent events in the kingdoms which they monitored. "Brother," the Gavel called when he saw his sibling at the door, "come in. Join us in a drink."

Nodding his acceptance, the Representative chose a chair between the Gavel and the Cleric, one which faced the Sage. He briefly greeted the latter two as the servant poured him a brandy, handed him the glass and left the room. "I suppose you're wondering why I've decided to pay you a visit."

"I was not aware that siblings required an invitation to enjoy one another's company."

"If I were here only as a sibling Gavel," he sighed.

His brother looked upon Gandor with both curiosity and concern, "Do tell."

Sipping the brandy, the Representative began, "It is my understanding from the king that the mortal was to visit each sector." The Gavel nodded to indicate his understanding had been correct. "To the extent that you were previously unaware, I had contact with the mortal prior to your becoming notified she was in the realm."

"Go on."

"Oh bother with the explanations! Regardless of how, I have knowledge, direct knowledge, that the mortal was being, and may again be, the target of Tiberon's exploits."

Across from him, the Sage choked on his brandy forcing the brown liquid to come spewing from his lips. "Are you alright?" the Cleric asked.

"Fine…f…fine," he stuttered as he wiped at the stains beginning to form on his robe.

"As I was saying, aside from being generally improper with all of his actions and conversation, Tiberon has seen his way to drugging the girl, for what purpose I cannot clearly say, as his thoughts are not my own, but I tell you this, Tiberon has no love lost for our king. Not a creature in this realm isn't familiar with the story of Jareth and Sarah and it doesn't take a wise or passionate man to know the two are at constant odds with their feelings for one another. If Tiberon plans to use this girl to overthrow the king, it is treason in its most basic form and it cannot be allowed to happen."

"I know of no plans for treason against the king," the Gavel said undaunted.

The Cleric sat up, alert and offered, "I know of no such plans, but don't be a fool Gavel, who would notify the Triumvirate of plans to overthrow the king. If Jareth's back needs looking after I, for one, will do it."

The Sage remained quiet. "Sage, what have you to say?" the Gavel asked.

"I know of no such plan to overthrow the king." Sheepishly, he hid behind his glass.

Gandor was a perceptive fey and not so easy to turn a cold shoulder as his brother, "But you do know something, don't you?"

"Why would you assume…"

"Don't skate around me, questioning my question. If ever guilt took up homestead on a face, it has flagged yours now. Sweat beading on your forehead." The Sage wiggled in his chair made uncomfortable by the Representatives keen eye. "And the way you shift in your seat as though you'd rather be anywhere but here."

"You may be my brother," the Gavel roared, "but it is not within your scope to bludgeon my constituent. We are a supreme law."

"Supreme law? You talk to me of supreme law? Were we not schooled by the same parents, taught the same values? Do you mean to insinuate that there is no one to whom the Triumvirate must answer?" Gandor narrowed his eyes upon the Sage, an uncharacteristic harshness upon his normally jovial face. "There is but one supreme law and that is the law of the Supreme One. He alone decides what is just and fair. His power is infinite and it governs you all. But let's assume, for a moment, that you are all above his law. At night, when your head rests upon your pillow, does the sleep come easy or does the secret that you keep call to you from inside your own skull? It's a frightening sound, isn't it? One that you can neither cast out nor diminish. What does it say to you?"

"Damn you Gandor, and damn me," the Sage moped. "Sure as I have been chosen by the elders I pledge my atonement."

"What have you done?" the Cleric asked.

"He came to me, Tiberon, and asked me to do him a favor. He knew that you, Gavel, would want Sarah gone and that you, Cleric, would want her to stay. My job was to advocate the mortal's stay in the Underground and to sway you," he indicated to Gandor's brother, "to agree." The gavel was visibly upset at being manipulated by his constituent. "I did as he asked. The rest was in his hands. I imagine he planned to woo the girl away from Jareth sending him into a pit of despair, as her rejecting him before had done and then, taking advantage of his weakness to challenge him for the throne."

"But we appoint the king. Even in the event of Jareth's death, we are the one's who would appoint the next king. The throne cannot be challenged!" Pounding his fists off the arm of his chair, the Gavel shouted these words, his anger growing.

The Sage, swallowed hard as he finished what brandy remained in his glass. "Not even by the eldest son of the former king?"

Gandor looked at these men, a once united front, crumbling before him. "What are you saying?"

"Tiberon is the eldest male child of Darien, the former king."

The Cleric asked, "How? How could that be? How could you know this?"

"Take my confession," he pleaded with his friend, "I carry within me the great burden of truth. I wish to offer my burden to the Supreme, so that he might give me my penance and help to again become the sane and happy fey I remember being. Tiberon was born out of wedlock to my great niece, Liril. She wished to claim the baby as Gumlain's and so it has been all his life. Tiberon eventually figured things through and Darien used his position as king to appoint his son Representative before leaving the throne. In Tiberon's mind he is and always has been the rightful king of the Underground."

Gandor's mouth was hanging open, as was the Cleric's. "Brother, I beseech you, he plans to overthrow the king."

"And so it would seem, but at the moment I'm a bit more concerned about what the Sage has done." He turned his attention to the fey, "It is a serious omission of fact you've chosen to involve yourself in. You have betrayed a countless number of people and I'm not entirely pleased with the idea of you having manipulated me. Your niece has always been a careless fool and her husband the largest dimwit in the land, but from you I expected more. You disappoint me and you will be punished."

"Gavel," the Cleric countered. "He is a heavily burdened man. He shall seek retreat."

"Punishment."

"Retreat."

"If both of you pleases, perhaps I could seek my retreat in some unpleasant location and combine the two sentences you've given me," the Sage suggested.

The Gavel's eyes gleamed, "Wise man! You shall spend a period of one week with Ranofyr in the Northwest sector of Jareth's kingdom."

"Gavel, really?" the Cleric interjected.

"I'll hear no more." He made it clear that he was not willing to negotiate. A gesture of his arm and the Sage was vanished, sent to fulfill his sentence.

"If I may," the Representative attempted to recall the point of his visit, "in light of his confession, you surely realize the king is in grave danger. Tell me that you will provide him with some assistance. Tell me that you will see to it that Maeve and Tiberon are punished."

"Maeve?" the Cleric asked.

"Indeed, how did the sweet Maeve entangle herself in such a web of deceit?" the Gavel asked his brother.

"Entangled, she's spun the damn thing. She's used her skills as an apothecary to grind the poison Tiberon used against the mortal. You must put an end to their treachery!"

"Dear brother, this is why I was asked to hold this position and you are to manage elves no higher than the snow they frolic in. I must do nothing. Jareth is king, he has an army. It would be good practice for them if he were attacked. We've not had a good fight in these parts since the raids, I say let the battle rage." His eyes grew wide.

"And you would pit fey against fey once more, spill more blood for the throne?" Disappointment saturated the Cleric's face.

A heavy sigh from the Gavel displayed his boredom with the topic at hand. "Myths, not facts. That ought to decrease the threat of blood shed by half." He was the only one to laugh at his joke.

The Cleric, now irrate, slammed his palms against the arms of his chair. "You have hated him since he was a child and for nothing more than being born."

"Not just born, born mortal," the Gavel reminded.

"Mortal?" Gandor had not been privy to this information prior to now.

"Born to parents who loved one another, regardless of their race or class."

"Nonetheless," disdain dripped from the Gavel's words.

"We christened him fey, we ended the chain." The Representative watched the two of them banter taking in all the bits of information they were willing to offer.

"And now, with this mortal, he plans to start it up again."

"Then perhaps it was not within our power to terminate it from the beginning."

"Do you wish to challenge me as well?"

"If I must. What will you do...banish me as you have the Sage? You know there must be at least two of us present at any time, otherwise, we would be a monarchy and that is not the way the law," he stressed, "is structured. You would not desire we break the law, would you?"

"No, indeed," he purred

Gandor could hold his tongue no more. "Gentlemen, I don't mean to disturb the feud you've got brewing here, but I must know if you plan to do anything to assist the king."

"I shall do nothing," the Gavel insisted. "Jareth is king. He must care for an entire kingdom. It seems obvious to me that he should be capable of caring for himself."

"In the name of the Supreme One, what kind of monster are you trying to be?" his brother pleaded.

"Were it up to me, I would tell Jareth myself what fate awaited him; however, it seems as the Gavel has made it impossible for me to take my leave. I see no problem with your reviewing this evening's events with him."

"Must you ruin my fun every time?" the Gavel exasperated.

"We are at the same impasse we were where the Sage was concerned, Gavel. I will bend for you but I refuse to break. You may not want to help Jareth and I may be unable, but Gandor can and he will. Besides, if I know your brother, and I venture I do, perhaps more so than you, he would do it anyway, even without your blessing. Gandor, you are excused. I believe there is discussion which must take place which your brother may be upset were you to overhear."

"Yes my lord. Thank you my lord." He turned to the Gavel, "Brother, you forget the humble beginnings by which our parents came to be. You forget that were not our father the subject of a sneak attack in the raid, he would be alive today to tell you how far removed you have become from the fine man he raised."

"How dare you throw father in my face? He should have known better. He should have anticipated."

"Some things cannot be anticipated. What has come to be cannot be changed and perhaps what has come to pass was what was meant to be."

"Get out!"

"Admit you're angry with him. Admit you're angry at him for dying when he was supposed to be immortal. Then maybe you'll see that you don't hate Jareth at all. You're just angry at him because he is so much like father. He is alive and able to love as purely as our royal father loved our common mother. Angry that such a love cannot grow in your heart of stone." The Gavel remained silent, "Chip away at the stone, I beg you, before it's too late. Father would want that, I want that."

"Get out." This time his order lacked the gusto it had only seconds earlier.

Dinner had been served and cleared away in the castle dining room. Neither Sarah nor the king had managed to join the others. Arulan kept quiet about all she had seen, not allowing so much as a hint to escape. "The king had things to attend to and the mortal was off to see her dwarf friend. Don't know a thing otherwise so don't ask," she told them.

Meanwhile, in the sitting room, off the hall which led to the dining room, Sarah and Jareth sat in each other's embrace. "I could stay like this forever," she told him after a stretch of silence.

"Were it in my power, I would reorder time to make it so."

Sarah spun around to face him. "That's it. You can reorder time. You've done it before."

"Your time here is set by the Triumvirate and only they can reorder that time."

"Funny that here where everyone's immortal we're concerned about time."

Jareth's fingers stroked her hair, "Yes, I suppose it is."

"How did we get here?" she asked nuzzling into his touch.

"Well, I was here already, with Arulan, getting her opinion on the song I had prepared for you, when you stopped by to eavesdrop. Then you walked in and foiled yet another surprise I had for you."

Sarah squinted, realizing she asked the wrong question. "I didn't mean here in this room, I meant how did we get together like this?"

"Ah, entirely different question all together that is. I sat down first, then you sat in my lap. There was some kissing, though not enough, never enough, and then you turned your back to me and rested against my chest."

Rolling her eyes she asked, "Not enough kissing is it? How," Sarah planted a few quick kisses against his palm, "on Earth," a few more kisses against his chest, "or in the Underground for that matter," his neck, "can we remedy that?" She captured his bottom lip between hers and massaged it gently. Jareth deepened the kiss, rolling his tongue over hers. One hand clutched the small of her back as the other reached for the pins in her hair. He tossed them recklessly to the floor and pulled free her restrained locks. As his passion for her, amongst other things, grew, he tightened his grasp on her hair, jerking her head back at one point. Sarah gasped as her mouth was yanked from his. Jareth's eyes went wide before he clamped his jagged teeth on her throat. A moan replaced the sigh. "Are you trying to distract me, your majesty?"

"No, in fact, I was hoping to review my vowel sounds by having you emit each of them from between your perfect lips. I believe the question you're attempting to ask is a relatively easy one. I can no longer enjoy myself with you while hiding my true feelings. You may find me cruel at times Sarah, but I have always been honest. To be dishonest with you was truly the hardest thing I have ever done."

"When did you know you loved me?" she asked.

Jareth smiled, "My mind knew the moment I met you, my body the first time we touched, my heart the minute after you left and my soul the second you were born."

"How do you take the most common words and craft them into such a tapestry?"

Deciding to tease her a bit more, Jareth explained, "First I think them up in my head, then I let them loose from my lips."

'Smart ass,' she thought. "These lips?" Sarah asked, her finger and thumb tugging at the king's bottom lip. He nodded. "Be nice if I could say pretty things like that."

"You know, I heard a rumor, and it is just a rumor you know, but they say if you rub your lips against the lips of someone who has a way with words the trademark can sometimes rub off."

"Well, such rumors should be thoroughly explored. As king, I believe it is your duty to research such rumors first hand. After all, you wouldn't want your subjects falling prey to any vicious rumors, would you?"

"Oh my, no!" he feigned distress. "This is a matter of utmost importance, rumor research, hmmm, I wonder if Deverell would mind seeing to this for me so that I could concentrate on repainting my study."

Curling her lips, Sarah exclaimed, "Jareth!"

"Just kidding love, let the experiments begin." Their lips met in perfect unison, each giving in and agreeing to meet in the middle of the open space between them, it was less a matter of who had official kissed whom, not the hurried, passionate overpowering of one by the other. Instead it was a kiss of gentle equality. The mortal as wanton as the king. Jareth began to gather Sarah's long skirt in his hands. 'Damn,' he thought. He'd become used to the short shift dresses that Arulan had made. Disappointment abandoned him as he rolled his palms over Sarah's bottom, squeezing her rump and pressing her to him.

She smiled when she pulled back her face to look at him. "Should we be doing this? Here I mean."

"It is my castle."

Pulling down her dress as she stood, Sarah stepped on one of the pins from her hair. "I know, but anyone could just walk in." She set about to finding the other pins.

Jareth's intentions strained at the fabric of his breeches. "I have a well mannered staff Sarah, no one is going to just walk in here without knocking." Suddenly the door burst open. "Uncanny."

"Your majesty, excuse me, but...Sarah?" Deverell said as the king shifted uncomfortably. Finally he settled upon crossing his legs in hopes of hiding his arousal from eyes not meant to see it. He grimaced as he did.

"Good evening Deverell."

"If I may be so bold milady. The Hoggles must have been having quite the affair. You look particularly striking." He now knew what Arulan had told them during dinner was a lie, but it was a lie he could live with. It was difficult, after all, to explain any other way, why it was the mortal's lipstick matched the king's. Sarah smiled at the compliment, her cheeks blushing with just a hint of shame at being caught behaving like some sex crazed teenager.

"Have you some reason to come bursting in here without so much as a knock on the door?" Jareth asked.

"Aye your majesty. Quite an urgent one, which is why I went without the knock."

"Urgent you claim," Jareth said, cocking his head and resting it on one hand. "Has a chicken escaped the Goblin City?"

"Sire, it's Gandor. He's come to the castle and insisted he speak with you. Arulan directed him to Turgomon and me, but having heard what it was he's come to tell us, we unanimously agree you should speak with him.

"What is it he's come to tell us?" this time the king's inquiry came with more interest.

"Sire, he's waiting to see you in your office, I think you should meet with him." Jareth looked at the young fey, gauging the expression on his face. "And you miss, he said that if you had returned," he spoke the word a bit uncertainly, "he'd like to see you as well."

Knowing the Representative wanted to see Sarah as well, changed Jareth's tone. Thankful the throbbing between her legs had subsided, he rose from the settee. "Sarah," she looked at him, concern knitting her brow, "Would you like to come with us?"

"If Gandor has asked to see me specifically, I suppose I should."

"I'm not advocating you doing anything you don't want to do." His hands fell to her waist in a tender and protective way which Deverell made quick notice of. Sarah lifted her finger and began wiping away the traces of lipstick which stained his face.

Suddenly uncomfortable in their presence, Deverell suggested, "Perhaps this is not the best time for me to have ah...interrupted you."

"Arulan's been keeping secrets I see," Jareth smiled. "Deverell, you should know, as should the others in the castle I suppose, that I've decided to court Sarah."

"You owe me no explanations, your grace."

"Aye, I suppose I don't. But, I would sing this from the rooftops." With that, he hoisted Sarah into the air and spun her around. "Now then, shall we go see what our good friend has to tell us."

"Indeed," Sarah took his arm and he led her to his office where the representative waited for them. Deverell was happy to see they'd finally conceded to the feelings that were obvious between them, he only hoped the news they were about to receive wouldn't darken their day.

"How nice of you to pay us a visit," Jareth said to Gandor as he entered his office. He looked around at all the faces, Arulan, Dalkeil, the healer and Turgomon. It occurred to him that this may all be an elaborate plan to gather together those close to the king in light of the decision he'd made. "Before any of you says anything," he began. We have an announcement to make." Gandor's heart sank. His news would surely sour this happy occasion. "As some of you know," Arulan smiled a knowing smile and Deverell averted his eyes. "I've decided," he looked at Sarah with a great love and admiration in his eyes, "to court my mortal."

"Oh," the elf gasped as tears began to fill her eyes. She'd waited a long time to see Jareth happy. Sarah smiled back at her. The men offered their congratulations to the king with a sturdy handshake and to the mortal with small hugs. That was to say until it was Arulan's turn. She grasped the girl so tight a distinct 'Ooomphf!' could be heard as the oxygen fled her lungs, but there was an immediate roll of laughter.

All the while Gandor stayed somber. "It's fantastic news old man, and not a better woman could you have chose." The representative pumped the king's hand while he said to the girl, "And you miss. Are you sure you want to hedge your bets with this one? I'll say it again, if only I were a few centuries younger."

"And mortal," Sarah added. "That's what you told me."

"Jareth," her eyes turned up at the king, "You said yourself, the Triumvirate will never allow you to court me." It sounded silly saying that, but now was not the time for such comments.

Though the king moved to respond to her, it was Gandor whose words first fell. "Don't give it a thought. Enjoy what you have as long as you are meant to have it. Don't think this over, before it has even had a chance to begin." With a heavy sigh, Gandor turned back to the king. "Forgive me for doing this on what should be a very happy day for the two of you; however, I bring you news from the Triumvirate." Though it would have surprised Sarah to know they'd found out so quickly, she was terrified by the thought of what Gandor might say next. "Tiberon has plans to take your throne."

"How can that be? The Supreme One knows he's not my child. The Triumvirate has no reason to wish to see me dethroned. Certainly they have less reason to want to see Tiberon hold the throne."

"All that being true, your majesty, Tiberon is something far worse than you could imagine." Gandor gulped down the lump in his throat. Sarah instinctively moved closer to the king's side. "Tiberon is Darien's first born son. He's never gotten over your mother being made queen."

"Ridiculous. My mother never had any siblings."

"None that were legitimate. Darien apparently had an affair with a commoner," he chose not to reveal Liril's name and implicate the Sage. His exile to the northeast was punishment enough. "Darien being the kind of fey he is, denied the child, claiming he was far too virtuous to have a child with anyone other than his wife. This woman, ashamed of what she had done, and desperate for a suitable father for her child, chose another man and passed the child off as his. However, Tiberon figured out who his true father was, but by then, Leanan Sidhe already had the throne. He's had you marked ever since."

"It is not I who chose to hide his lineage, nor to overlook it when the throne became available. If you were to ask me, he should have a word with his father," a definite tone finished his sentence.

"Yes well we all know Tiberon is not you. To him, Darien is a great hero who was limited in his abilities to rule by the Triumvirate and by Arianna."

"Not quite. He was limited by his laziness and by a divining rod libido which led him into any moist patch he could find, damn the consequences. If it hadn't been for my grandmother, I shudder to think what the Underground would be like." Jareth realized now what stunned him most of all, "Gumlain. Gumlain was Tiberon's father. We talked of him when we were at his castle during our visit to his sector. I always knew he was too good a man to spurn the likes of Tiberon. But Liril, Liril is the Sage's great niece, what in all the Underground would make her take an animal like Darien to her bed?"

"He did seem to have a sort of way with the ladies," Turgomon added.

Jareth curled his lips in disgust, "Most likely he subjects them to the same chemicals his son uses." Sarah lowered her head. "I'm sorry, love, I didn't mean for that to sound the way it did. I told you he planned to take my kingdom and now I know his motivation."

"Tiberon planned to win Sarah's heart, reducing you to what you were the first time she left and then challenge at your weakest moment for the throne. I'm not entirely certain that he doesn't still intend to do this," the Representative explained.

"Gandor," Jareth began in a sure and steady voice, "You see that he was unable to win the heart of my mortal. Let him come for my throne. I assure you, he will learn that is solidly mine as well." Hearing him word his determination that way, made Sarah feel safe. Not to mention, she was now fully able to appreciate the way he so often referred to her as his mortal. "Dalkeil, you'll begin working with Deverell immediately. Then the two of you will whip the goblin armies into shape. Make them aware there is rumor of an attack upon the castle. Tell them they must be alert and prepared. If Tiberon wants to take my throne, let him come, let him try, but I don't think he has what it takes to face me proper, let alone defeat me, not now."

An amazing transformation had taken place in the king the moment he allowed his heart to speak. Stood before this small collection of the people closest to him, Jareth was ten feet tall. Few had ever seen him this way. For Arulan it had been a long time since she saw him so vivacious and confident. Sarah was good for him, they all knew it. She had come back, back to the king, back to his kingdom, assumed her rightful spot beside the man who loved her. Those who watched them stand as a front together hoped it wasn't too late for her to save him or to early for them to believe she could.

"Jareth," Gandor said slowly, "You know as well as I do your armies haven't fought in...hell they've never fought."

"If Dalkeil can teach Deverell to fight, he can surely manage a few goblins."

"I'm only thinking we shouldn't become overconfident."

"What would you have me do? Hunt him down before he can attack me? And face the Triumvirate for something, I have no doubt they would blame on me somehow? Ask the Triumvirate for help? That's why you're here, isn't it? The Triumvirate aren't coming. The fey armies are disbanded, many of them with no intention of ending their retirement to defend a castle that houses a mortal in it's walls. You few here and my goblins, and my" it crossed his mind to call Sarah his queen, but he didn't want to push, "mortal are all I have. But are we not ready?"

"Aye!" cried the crowd.

"Do we believe we can best him?"

"Aye!" they called again.

"Can't you just take away his position as a Representative?" Gandor suggested.

Jareth's hand flew in the air, "So I can infuriate him more? Shy of exiling him to the opposite side of the mountain, which we both know, I lack the authority to do, Tiberon will come at me when he makes up his tiny mind to do so. Let's not have me pour salt on his wounds."

"Then perhaps we should make certain he doesn't know of your announcement concerning Sarah," Turgomon offered.

Jareth looked at the beautiful woman who quietly whispering to him that this was all her fault. His palm cupped her cheek as he told her, "No." Though he didn't move his concentrated stare, he said to Turgomon, "I wouldn't send him a copy of the announcement, but I won't hide it from him either. I have hid my love for this woman long enough, I refuse to do it another day, another moment. His arm drew her face to his, were in front of everyone present, their lips joined in a kiss that spoke as succinctly as Jareth's words.

Arulan began crying again. Dalkeil and Turgomon turned away. Deverell was spellbound, this being perhaps the most romantic thing he had ever seen. Gandor's face which had been hanging until this moment suddenly began to perk at the corners. "What is it they say?" the healer piped up for the first time during all this exchange. "If you can't beat them, join them." When he first met the girl he'd warned Jareth, she would be a handful and by the looks of things, his hands were full. One by one they filed out of the room leaving them to their business.

When at last they became cognizant of the world around them, Jareth grinned wickedly, "Must be getting late if everyone was so eager to run off."

"Jareth, exactly what does courting mean?"

"It's much like mortal dating, only there are certain formalities which are to be observed, most of which are merely good manners to start with, but for example, I had to ask permission from someone who assumes responsibility for you before I could suggest the idea."

"You asked my father?"

"No, I didn't really think that would be a wise idea. I asked Hoggle."

"Hoggle?" she asked disbelieving.

"Yes, Hoggle."

"And he said yes?"

Jareth grew serious, "No, he said no and I had him dipped in the Bog of Eternal Stench." A moment's pause and he added, "Yes, he said yes."

Astonished, she repeated, "He said yes, huh?"

"Would you have wanted him to say no?"

For a second, she pretended to consider the idea, "Well." Rather than listen to whatever comment she was brewing to level him, Jareth went back to kissing her. "Is that what you're going to do every time I attempt to say something you don't want to hear?"

"Every time," he told her. "And maybe even some of the time when I do want to hear you."

"So when will you find time to court me if we're supposed to be taking care of the lands in and around the castle these last two weeks?"

"There are ways, I am king after all. I shall accompany you on your errands. You'll see." he told her as he hurriedly cut himself off. "I'm through letting you in on the surprises I have in store for you." With that the king snapped his fingers and they were gone from the office.

When Sarah opened her eyes, they were standing in her bedroom. "Ah, you're not suggesting that we...share this room tonight, are you?"

Given how Jareth had spent these last four weeks with Sarah, he didn't much care if they shared the room, he just wanted to be sure they shared the bed. His teeth gnawed at her neck, "You're so right. We shouldn't share this room tonight. My bed's bigger," his eager hands clutched her waist and began nudging her toward the adjoining door.

"What happened to taking this as slow as I wanted?"

"Oh, come now, I've been wrong before. As a man involved in a relationship I am prepared to be constantly wrong from this moment forward."

"Jareth," she reprimanded.

"I said that? I mean, of course, I said that and I stand by it. As you wish, " he bowed to her capturing her hand in his and it was trembling. "Sarah, love, are you frightened of something?"

"I just don't want to disappoint you. I know what you're feeling runs deep and has been with you awhile, but for me this fantasy in only a few hours old. I wouldn't feel right after only a few hours."

"It's not as though we've not been together before now?"

"I know, but it seems different now. I mean when I thought we were just doing it for the sake of doing it there wasn't so much pressure, but the next time you take me to bed, or wherever," at the thought she couldn't resist smirking, "it will be to make love to me. That brings with it a certain amount of expectation. Will you be horribly disappointed if we sleep apart tonight?"

"Only a fool would not be," he countered. "Every moment when I am able to hold you in my arms and cannot, is a great disappointment to me, but I don't want to rush you Sarah. My door is always open and you may come to me as you please." The raise of his eyebrows punctuated the last sentence in an obvious way. Placing a kiss on the back of her hand, Jareth walked through the adjoining door, before closing it again, he called her name. "Sarah," she turned to face him, "just so you know, we have never done it, just for the sake of doing it, as you say."

Jareth had a way of making her regret everything she'd ever said. Just then she regretted not letting him stay, but some idiotic notion of what was proper and the how to be a lady drills had won over the ache she had, which sieged her body. Sarah changed into a simple pink camisole top and short set made of silk with lace trim and wiggled between the sheets. For a great while she just stared up at the ceiling, wondering if it would be too bold to slip through the door and into the king's bed. Somehow, the idea that real love had the potential to exist between them frightened her into missionary thoughts, of ritualistic love making on the same night every week, with the lights off and only if he was in the mood. Sarah tried to figure out where she'd gotten the idea that committed love needed to be that way. After all, their's had been an open relationship up until now. Jareth had taught her much of what she had failed to learn in her world. She'd become far more vocal when it came to her desires and her joy, why did the threat of commitment need to change that.

Simply it did not. Jareth wanted her, that was obvious from how they had parted company. He wasn't about to push, unless she wanted him that way, it just wasn't like him. But if she were to push, how would he react, she wondered. Doubtful that he would refuse her, doubtful he would push her away. In fact, he may even respect a healthy use of aggression on her part. He certainly didn't seem to mind when they had been traveling west together. Back and forth she weighed the scenario in her head. The positives and the negatives, of how he might react, what he might say or think.

On the other side of the wall that separated them, Jareth had forced himself to sleep, reasoning that a dream of her was better than lying awake and trying to fend off a desire for her. It had taken a number of hours, but shortly after three in the morning, the Goblin King was resting comfortably, dreaming of his mortal.

She'd come to him through the adjoining door which he'd left unlocked. Slipping silently into bed beside him, her warm soft body pressed against his bare back as her long legs conformed to the curve of his, nothing between them, but the thin silk of his sleeping pants and the sensual pliant layer covering her skin. Like air her palms were gliding over his bare chest, daring every now and again to dip over his mid-section or toy with the waistband of his pants. Her sweet breath hot on his shoulder as she sighed at their very closeness. With a precision only Sarah had, she lay small kisses across his back and along the curve of his neck until, even in his sleep, Jareth's only desire was to taste her skin. One of the king's hand, cloaked in his silk night gloves, stilled a hand of the mortal's and rose it to his lips, which he pressed down upon fingers which had only seconds earlier been caressing him skillfully.

Though groggy, the king's heightened sense determined it was not fantasy flesh he'd put to his lips. With a bit of a jerk, he turned in the bed. His eyes set upon her appreciatively as he moved his hands along her body eager to be sure his dream had ended. Her body still shook with small tremblings that made him ask, "Sarah if you don't want to..."

But before he could finish the question, her fingers caged his lips. "I want nothing more than to be here with you and if you send me back, I shall lie awake, restless all night. Something in me is missing when I'm not with you, Jareth. Damned if I can explain it, but I feel it." Sarah closed her eyes and pressed against him in a firm in embrace. "I hope that you don't find me too brazen, coming to you like this."

"Not at all. I'm flattered that you wanted to be here."

"I do," she whispered into his neck. "I really do." Jareth lay back, keeping his right arm around Sarah whose head rested against his chest. Her hand continued its serpentine pattern over his chest and stomach while he stroked the long black locks which covered her shoulders. After a moment, Sarah propped up on her elbow and stared down at the king. He was magnificent when he was at ease and she couldn't resist lowering her lips to his pale chest and covering it in small kisses. As her leg slid along the silk of his sleeping pants, Jareth raised an eyebrow. "Am I much worse than other woman you've taken to bed?" she asked.

"What?" Embarrassed, Sarah's head fell back to his chest. Jareth kissed her raven crown. "I hope you're not asking me, what it is I believe you are."

"Why? I can take the truth, Jareth. I know you been with a large number of woman, far more experienced than I am."

"It hasn't been a particularly large number schematically. As for experienced, they have been that, but not experienced with me, not cognizant of the way I like to be kissed, the touch I respond to most. To be honest, none but Maeve has ever been with me more than once, and even before the first time I kissed you, you were able to give me more than she ever could. No one has ever taken my soul from me Sarah, no one until you. You've been the only one I could trust that much. So let them have their experience, you and I are building an intimate knowledge of one another and that is worth more than all the experience even the greatest courtesans could acquire."

She wondered if he would perpetual find just the right words at just the time she needed to hear them. As she watched him speak, his mouth grew more and more perfect, until it seemed a shame to her they had stilled. Without hesitation, she brought her lips crashing down upon his. Every few seconds, Sarah would break their kiss to pull back and admire him. "When's the last time you've been with a woman whose sole intent was to please you?" she asked.

Jareth cocked an eyebrow, one corner of his mouth curling slightly, "I suppose no woman has ever been with me who did not expect something from me in return."

"Well then I suppose there is that way in which I can still be your first." Sarah's eyes fell closed, a light smile on her lips. In seconds the candles in the room began to spark to life filling it with a warm glow, casting a yellow hue on Sarah's skin that made it glimmer like gold.

"Impressive," he told her. She sunk to his neck, covering the tender flesh in small kisses and quick nips that made his body tingle. Afterward, her warm tongue lapped his flesh to ease the ache her teeth had left. Down his chest, she continued to work with the same pattern in small patches. When she reached the silk of his waist band, Sarah flung her leg over him and perched above him. Catching his eye, she held his stare and lowered her crotch to his. The flimsy layers of silk between them did little to hide the heat or the hardness of Jareth's erection. Her thin fingers, which no longer trembled, traveled from his shoulders to his palms. She held each finger to her lips and kissed the tip.

'To hell with the gloves,' she thought. If he wanted them on, let him have them.

Jareth's body filled with a brief cold that stole his breath. When once more he was able to draw oxygen into his lungs, he knew his soul had left him. It had been given over to this woman in his arms, just as all things he had or would ever acquire, all for her. Sarah kissed him deeply, using her mouth to express her gratitude without words and he returned her kiss with equal fervor. 'Strange,' Sarah thought although to say it would have been rude, but she had never felt her partner's satisfaction before. This time with Jareth, she'd felt this strange rush of heat that seemed to fill her and spread to her furthest reaches. It was an amazing warmth, filled with electrical charge and she couldn't help wondering if it was all because of what he was. 'Probably,' she thought as he continued to hold her against him, 'but it didn't matter.' It wouldn't have mattered, not even if his touch made her go cold. She knew as her hands filled with his damp blonde hair, pressing his ear to her chest where he could listen to her heart pounding, that his love was as strong as his magic, that it was no longer a question of if she could fall in love with him, but when.

Tenderly he laid her back on the mattress and brushed the stray hair from her eyes. Looking at him she guessed he was as tender a man as he was a lover. The king's touch was like butterfly wings against her skin, even when his fingers were clad in leather. "If your wondering whether or not I remain disappointed, let me assure you, I am as far from disappointed as any one creature can be."

Desire had beaten her out. Sarah's face grew heavy and sad as she realized, this was not how she had intended for things to be. She wanted to get to know him, find out all the things which Turgomon had pointed out she did not know. "What's your favorite color?"

Jareth laughed a tiny chuckle, afraid to offend her. "Why?"

"It's important," she insisted. "What's your favorite color?"

"Blue," he said, waiting to see her reaction, hoping she might let him in on the significance of his reply.

"Mine too," she said, snuggling down beneath his arm. Jareth covered her with the duvet and smiled against her forehead as he kissed her gently there.

Jareth lie awake until he saw the first rays of morning light come streaming into the bedroom. For the first time since she had arrived Underground, Jareth was not lying awake out of frustration, but rather out of a complete satisfaction the likes of which he had never known. Somehow he anticipated the fleeting of his soul would leave him feeling strangely empty, hollow, a fraction of what he once was, but it was all rather contrary. He felt fulfilled, whole, more in love with Sarah. All his thoughts of regret in choosing her or resentment for what she was and how she would eventually leave were gone. There in his arms lie his future, throne or no throne, Sarah would be his forever, whether she knew it or not. She would be the thing that brought him joy, the missing piece to complete he puzzle he was. Let Tiberon have the throne if it was that important to him. Jareth had learned what the meaning in life was and she was soundlessly resting by his side, where he would keep her at all costs.


	31. Chapter 30

**CHAPTER THIRTY - THE KING'S COURT**

Arulan left two silver trays in the king's sitting area. She'd come in quietly, hoping he would have good news to tell her of the night before and met the king's hushed 'ssshhh' from behind his forefinger as he rested against the headboard, a sleeping Sarah in his arms. His servant smiled and retreated, happy at what she had stumbled upon. Not long after, Sarah awoke. "Good morning," Jareth smiled down at her.

Inhaling his scent deeply, Sarah returned his smile and rose her lips to meet his, "Good morning." Her arms held him tightly, a feeling he'd grown dependant upon as of late. "I suppose if I'm awake then last night, the song, making love to you, not a dream?"

"On the contrary, a dream that I shall endeavor from this day forth to make last." One more kiss and he was back to business. "Much as I hate to think we've ever got to leave this bed, there is work to be done and if I am to court you, it means planning all kinds of lovely things in your honor, which I find it very hard to do with you so near me, especially wearing nothing."

The smell of breakfast caught her nose and combined with the king's reminder that she had been nude. "Oh God, breakfast is here. Arulan didn't see, did she?"

Human modesty confounded him, especially when hers was such a fine specimen deserving of being displayed. "I summoned those trays myself," he lied to make her feel better; "however, I'm sure she realized you were somewhere when she found your bed empty and the door open." Nudging toward the door that joined their rooms, Jareth smirked.

"I'm so embarrassed."

"What's to be embarrassed over? This is what Arulan has wanted for us for quite some time now. Come and eat, it's too early in the morning for worries." Jareth's magic wrapped him in a black silk robe. Creating a blue one for Sarah, he grabbed her by the hand and led her to the trays. "Who's coming to help us eat this?" he asked.

It was an impressive array. Pancakes, eggs, sausage and fruit. "Not a problem," Sarah said, digging in immediately. "I'm starving." Jareth couldn't help smiling at her refreshing spirit. Besides, he'd like to think he was at least partially responsible for her appetite. His mind drifted.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Sarah asked when she'd almost finished and he had yet to put what was on the end of his fork into his mouth.

"Huh?" Jareth shook loose the lurid ideas he was having. "I'll just pick at the eggs. I'm rather anxious to begin planning these next two weeks. Although he'd said he would eat, the king stood up and went to his bedside table. The pink head of his anxiousness poking from between the slit in his robe.

"So it would seem," Sarah giggled.

Jareth blushed, actually blushed, for probably the first time since his childhood. "By the bog! That seems to be a permanent side effect of your company."

"Well I find it rather flattering," she said rushing to his side and planting a kiss on his cheek. "Are you going to be in your office today?"

He looked at her with a curled lip and a raised brow, "Not twenty four hours into our courtship and you're already laying claim to everything I own. As a matter of fact, I had planned on getting caught up on things, seeing what Deverell has set aside for me, perhaps a few other things for which your presence may not be desired." Her hurt expression made him rephrase, "Entirely appropriate, I meant entirely appropriate. You are always desired, believe me when I tell you that." His arms drew her close once more. This time he kissed her deeply and passionately, which she had not expected.

Flustered, Sarah attempted to remember what it is she was thinking of before he'd done that. "Books!" she cried as if she had been the first one to discover them. "I'd like to get some books from you office before you commandeer it." She smiled. "Is there a sitting room or some place where I could get some work done?"

"You are supposed to be helping Mason," he reminded her.

A pouty lip jutted out from Sarah's chin, "He doesn't like help. It makes him feel useless, besides, what I want to do is as important to the restoration of the Underground as the physical labor."

"Really?" Sarah shook her head. "How's that?"

"Jareth, I'm shocked. You know where I come from it isn't just the guys who do the courting. Have you even paused to consider that I may have a surprise or two in store for you."

"Dear woman, the thought drives me." He jerked his eyes wide at the thought. "As you wish. There is a sitting room just down the hall from my office, one with a large table where you can read the day away without having to lug the volumes very far. Does that sound to your liking?"

"Indeed it does, thank you." Satisfied she began crossing back to her room where she could dress. Jareth being what Jareth was, could not resist propping against the door and watching the robe hit the floor, her bare back and bottom free for his appraisal before being hidden all too quickly beneath the thin cotton of a yellow dress. As Sarah pulled the sling back of yellow sandals over her heel, the corner of her eye caught his satisfied stare. "Oh you" Raven locks bounced as she flew across the room to him, taking him into her arms. "Won't you tire of me when I'm old and..." A sudden realization stopped her words, "Jareth, I'm going to continue to grow old, while you remain as you are and eventually..."

"Don't, don't do this to yourself. You were so happy a minute ago. These are all questions that we don't need to concern ourselves with, not yet. And I will never tire of you, not the sight, not the feel, not the taste." His lips kissed hers gently, sincerely, but Sarah didn't return his kiss. He knew she'd not taken his advice.

Books spread across the table in the sitting room Jareth had given Sarah to work in. She had read quite a bit about the various breeds of the Underground. A lot of it was related to the Sidhe, but in the small room cluttering up the table was nothing but Sidhe related volumes. While Jareth attempted to win her heart, she had decided to put together the end all beat all surprise for him. She would figure out the mystery that was his mother and put to rest the question which burned into his mind: What makes the king incapable of being loved?

For hours, she turned page after page, scrawling notes and leaving strips of paper to mark pages she might come back to. When Sarah finally looked up and saw how much time she'd spent with her nose in the books, she ground at her tired eyes. For a moment she decided to rest her head on the pile of literature before her. As Jareth opened the door it startled her back to attention, "Diligently reading I see."

"I was until about thirty seconds ago," she defended her moment's rest.

"Sure you were," he smirked. "I was wondering if you might like to have dinner with me this evening.

"Aren't we all having dinner together?" she asked.

Jareth moved closer to her as had become his instinct in the last day, "I thought, if you were up for it, a private dinner in my private dinning room. Can I count on your attendance?" Sarah nodded. "Fine. Seven, I'll pick you up in your room."

"Are you asking or telling?"

"Asking of course," which was a lie, but a very nice save on the king's part.

"In that case, seven will be fine." Sarah yawned, "Now let me get a few more volumes in before dinner," she said resting her head on the books again and smiling up at him.

"I seem to forever be owing you an apology," Sarah said as Arulan pinned her hair into an intricate bundle of curls. By the 20th pin she'd completely lost count, imagining she would be finding these tiny ornaments tucked very near her scalp for days to come.

The elf smiled at her in the mirror, "Whatever have you to apologize for?"

"All the misgivings I had when it came to you and Jareth. I was incredibly off base. All this afternoon I couldn't help thinking back on some of the things I had said to you. You must have thought me mad."

Shrugging, she admitted, "I did sometimes wonder why you took things so terribly personally. I only wish I had known what you were thinking, I'd have straightened you out before you had to go through that."

Smiling, Sarah's head fell in a shy downward tilt. "I'm kind of glad you didn't. I don't think I've ever had a single moment like that one in my life and if even a word of it had been different...it wouldn't have been as perfect."

Clutching a comb to her chest, Arulan exclaimed, "It was perfect, wasn't it? I mean I don't mean to toot Jareth's horn, but he made the most exquisite song and you all dressed up like that. What are the odds?"

"You know I wasn't just dressed like that to apologize." Arulan bobbed her head. "I had a talk with Hoggle that afternoon. I was going to tell Jareth that I..."

"Love him?" the elf finished.

Sarah spun on the stool where she sat, "I think I do. I'm terrified to tell him that I do if I don't truly. He makes a very big distinction when it comes to that and Arulan, I quite frankly don't know if I've ever truly loved anyone. What's the difference?"

"When it comes to Jareth, it's not my place to tell you. When it comes to you," Arulan took her gently by the shoulders, "only you can tell. I promise you when the time comes, and I so hope it does, you won't have any doubt."

Folding her arms around Arulan, Sarah hugged her tightly, "Thank you."

"Me? Heaven's no. I haven't done a thing."

"You! You've done everything. Every stitch of clothes, every pair of shoes, my most impressive hairstyles. It was you who made the Goblin King notice me."

"Gracious how you exaggerate." She turned Sarah back around to face the mirror so she could finish her hair. "Jareth would notice you in a roomful of done up women." The girl blushed, "Keep that up and we won't need to worry about your make up."

"That face doesn't need a thing. It's absolutely perfect the way it is." Jareth leaned in the doorway his legs crossed at the ankles. He wore navy breeches, tucked into high black boots. A silver painter's shirt held down by a black leather vest, all covered over by a navy frock coat studded with rhinestones. Lacy sleeves extended from beneath the cuffs of the coat and nearly covered his hands, but for the ends of his lengthy, leather encased fingers. Arulan smiled, curtsied and left the room. Sarah stood leaving her A-line skirt to twirl around her thighs. "Blue," he noticed in the faint glow of the candles from the wall sconce.

"Your favorite color," she said coming nearer to him. Jareth lost himself in the vision she was. Not just her most basic beauty, but the dress, her hair done up in a stack of curls. Sarah brought a light to everything she touched, even the king and Jareth was beginning to realize it. From between his curling lips, jagged teeth sparkled.

Sarah couldn't resist the urge to reach out to him. As her hands fell upon the ruffles of his shirt, she managed to trail a finger from each hand along the opening over his chest. Catching the medallion, she looked it over and then looked at the silver chain which hung from her own neck. The tiny charm which dangled from it an identical match, set to scale, making it more feminine and delicate. "They're very unique," she remarked when she had completed her examination. "What do they stand for?"

"Why don't I tell you over dinner?" Jareth asked as he straightened his posture and took her arm to feed through his. "In fact there is much I have to tell you if you are ever going to love me...for something other than my body." Though to keep in the spirit of teasing her, Jareth looked away, it did not hide the smirk on his lips.

Playing along, Sarah mustered a smirk of her own and cleverly chided, "What's so wrong with that?"

'She was learning,' he thought as he led her down the hall.

It was called the King's private dining room, but as Sarah looked through the door she was agog at the massiveness of what was supposed to be an intimate room. The table and chairs were constructed of rich, almost black wood, thick in it's cut and simple in its style. It could have easily sat eight comfortably, but tonight it was set for two. Jareth at the head and his mortal in the seat to his left. The dining set held a huge rug to the floor beneath it, woven of red and gold fibers with black accents. There were two wingback leather chairs, both a rich maroon, to either side of an end table before a fireplace off to the right and in an area further back, a twenty foot square section had been raised, the floor polished hard wood. Sarah assumed it was for dancing. Over the windows hung heavy wine colored curtains, thin lace sheers beneath them allowed the sun to shine through the glass and ignite the traces of gold in the lavish marble floor. From the walls hung polished silver sconces, through which a gentle glow illuminated the room nicely.

"This is a private dining room?" she asked amazed.

Jareth chuckled, "It's not often that I dine with only one other in my company. When this room was utilized the most, Oberon's father, Aggedor, was busy negotiating terms of the treaty to end the raids. He and the elders seemed to dine here three nights a week or more, so I was told."

"Treaty to end the raids?"

Jareth guided her, his hand at the small of her back. They sat in the leather chairs before the fireplace, "If you would be so kind," he indicated to the cold, empty hearth.

Almost effortlessly, Sarah ignited a flame in the pit. Jareth's eyebrow rose, impressed at how her magic had developed. Though she too was impressed at the quickness with which she had learned to call the elements, her fascination with his history of the Underground intrigued her more. One of the servants brought them two glasses of brandy. "Thank you," Sarah said raising her glass to her lips and sampling the liquor inside.

"Many centuries ago, when Oberon was roughly my age. Mortals had found an opening into our realm. They hunted the creatures here, the dragons, the unicorn, the centaurs. When they were asked to stop, they smuggled the creatures back to their world to breed and hunt there. But mythicals are not foolish creatures on the whole and many of them bested the mortals. Dragons learned to breath fire, the unicorn learned to disguise itself, what have you. The mortals returned, to our realm, attending fairy rings, like the one we went to. No harm may come to anyone at a ring, you understand, regardless of what they are, unless they offend the fairies, then mercy save them." Jareth couldn't help but to notice the way Sarah hung to each word he said, her interest in the history of his world more than casual. A quick sip of brandy and he continued. "They attempted to mate with some of the fey breeds, they fell victim to the Selkie and other unwholesome characters. When their world began to fill with changeling babies they called on us to take them away. Soon we were a convenient way for them to wish away unwanted children. By night they called us, by morning's light they cried, 'The goblins have taken my child. Heaven help me, they've stolen my babe.'"

"In legions, the mortals came and burnt our towns, poisoned our streams and lynched our people. None of them understood there were only three ways to kill a true immortal. Iron, introduced into the blood, a full beheading or entrapment, which means an immor..."

"Being taken above ground and held there until the lack of magic in the atmosphere causes death." Sarah finished his explanation for him.

"Indeed. So you've done more than sleep upon those books, I see." He smiled at her over the rim of his glass. "Once they found we were not easily killed we became looked upon as creatures of the devil's own hand. Rumors of our evil doings began to abound in mortal folklore. The humans began to infiltrate small sections, pretending to befriend a class or a race, convincing them they were to be the target of some attack of an opposing class or race, swearing their knowledge was offered in benevolence, compassion for the species under attack. Before long, the realm was pitted against itself. Dwarfs and elves fought to the death, goblins and orcs, fey against fey. Slaughtered by the thousands until the Triumvirate were appointed by the fey elders and given an army comprised of a sampling from every class, every race, every breed in equal number. Among them, Aggedor. He was perhaps the most instrumental in putting an end to the raids, choosing from each group, one who would participate in the development of a set of laws by which our realm would function, composing the treaty and negotiating for months until he was at last able to collect the signature of every representative, of every elder. His work was a large reason why Oberon was chosen to be king. He was the son of a respected fey, one of the first deemed a true royal in the Underground."

Savagery had always been part of the Aboveground. Surely it could be found written between the lines of a history text or scrawled in fine print on the foot of the many monuments which honored those who had died in the names of freedom and bravery. Such truths of what humans were capable of doing to one another were not public knowledge and history was carefully designed to make it stay that way, but for those who quested for truth. Despite what Sarah knew people were capable of doing to one another, what they had done here shocked her. From the first time she'd set foot here as an adult, Sarah was in awe of the things she saw. Paradise to be found, but for looking, in every corner, a place for everyone and everyone free to find their place. "No wonder everyone here hates my kind."

"Not everyone," he reassured her with a pat to the back of her hand.

Sarah set down her glass, "When I think about my kind burning your villages, lynching, poisoning, it's barbaric. Aggedor ended the raids, but what about my people, how did you free yourselves of the mortals?"

Jareth had begun to regret his decision to share the history of his world with her. "The mortals were asked to sign the treaty. It was their idea to strengthen the door between their reality and our worlds of magic. Such an idea was more than readily accepted by the counsel for the realm and the most experienced healers and magicians were asked to assemble. They tried several times to create a suitable barrier between the worlds. At last, they were able to devise a method in which our people could not go Aboveground equipped with magic unless we were called. The incantation was horribly specific, as I'm sure you remember. It was no less specific when other species are called upon. Mortals access to our world was even more restricted, although it would be some time before they realized it. For the greater part, everyone was satisfied with the decision, but for one consequence. Everything mortal that was in our realm remained as everything immortal which was Aboveground at the time the barrier was put in place remained."

"That's when Man Island came to be," she suggested. The king nodded. "Remarkable."

"And so the worlds were separated forever, but for the mythicals who had work Aboveground and but for the few weak spots in the barrier the magicians and healers put in place, giving mortals a tiny glimpse or a brief interaction with us."

"Work?"

"When summoned, whether through words, as I was to you, or through actions, as Quidam is when a rainbow appears, there are a number of immortals who can join your realm for a time to accomplish a chore before the return. For most of us, work Aboveground is at a minimum, excluding Mr. Claus and the damnable long eared tattle tale he shares a sector with. Entrapment still happens, but it's more a coincidence these days than it was before the raids."

"That's why the words have to be just so, that's why everything that gets said here is examined thoroughly." Sarah watched him nod slowly at her realization. 'That's why she must truly love him,' she thought. "Thank you for taking the time to tell me about the history of your world Jareth."

"There are far more pleasant tales I could have chosen to tell you."

"So there may be, but it was important for you to tell me that one. I'm glad you did."

His hand reached for hers. She was far more capable of letting go of her mortality than even Jareth had imagined. As Sarah found herself being pulled into the lap of the king, a tiny voice interrupted them, "Beg your pardon. Dinner is served."

Jareth rose from his chair a look of great disappointment wearing on his face. Leading her to the table, he drew out the chair, let her sit and then eased her up to the table. The king then took his seat before the servant brought them salads and mead. When they were alone again, Sarah leaned across the corner of the table. "Now I know how your family came to hold the throne, but how did you get to be king?"

"Isn't that evident?"

"No. Oberon had two children, the first died."

"Murdered," he said pointedly between bites of his salad. "The second fathered my mother, who married and had me. Both my parents died and now I'm king."

"Some how I think you've managed to leave out a few details."

He smirked, "I tire quickly of talking about myself Sarah darling, what say we talk about you for a bit?"

"Me?" Sarah asked him. "What could you possibly find so interesting about me?"

"Plenty," he told her. "Essentially, I know very little about you. It's like we're meeting again for the first time."

"And all that spying you've done through those crystal balls of yours, what was that for?"

"Must we call it spying, Sarah? I mean the fact that I chose to keep tabs on you for a number of years, doesn't exactly amount to spying." Another set of servants brought out trays with poached salmon, rice and a vegetable mix. Everything done to the perfect texture. "Thank you," Jareth said as he dismissed them.

"What would you like to call it?" Sarah reached for her glass of water. There was more pepper on the salmon than she was used to and the taste burnt her tongue. The ice looked almost crushed only in perfectly even pieces and all at the bottom of the glass.

"Concern, perhaps? Keeping in touch with a good friend? There are a plethora of finer ways to title my spying."

"Ah, so you admit it." Sarah giggled at his attempt to out talk her. "Now how is it you've managed to spy on me all this time and yet still feel you have something to learn?"

"Sarah, my love, you will forever be a mystery I want to unravel." Jareth took a long sip of water drawing some of the 'ice' into his mouth and crunching it loudly between his jagged teeth. "You are a constantly evolving creature for which my thirst of knowledge may never be quenched. No matter how much I know already, I will always want for more." Having made his point, Jareth rose the goblet to his lips and took a long sip.

Giving in a bit, Sarah began to weave a tale for the king. "I was born a coal miner's daughter."

"While amusing, I must warn you I have a rather extensive mortal music base and I believe that line has already been used."

"Caught me," she admitted, her eyes catching his and a laugh curving her lips. Sarah took a few pieces of 'ice' in to her mouth as well. When they refused to dissolve, she attempted to crush them with her teeth.

A wave of Jareth's hand stopped her in mid-chomp. "I wouldn't do that if I was you."

"Why?" asked an inquisitive Sarah as she spat the crystals into her hand. "Jareth, are these diamonds?"

"How else would you make sparkling water, but to add a bit of ice."

She'd heard diamonds referred to as ice Aboveground, "So, that's where that expression came from."

"Um hum. Now you were about to tell me the details of your family."

"But you just ground a diamond with your teeth."

"No use trying to change the subject."

"Fine. Mother was an actress, and when I was just entering my 'formidable' years, as she called them, her passion for daddy had all but died. She'd met another man. They were in a play together and he encouraged her to run away with him, leave behind the husband and the daughter, which only served to slow her down and embrace a world of freedom which they would explore together. Obviously, the temptation was too great for she did precisely as he had asked." Though the salmon was soft as butter, Jareth thought he noticed Sarah's knife sawing through it as if the anger that should have been coming out in her voice had transferred into her hands. "Father took the whole thing in stride. I imagine it had been bad for some time before I was let in on their decision to divorce. Not long after, Karen started making an appearance around the house with her constant Friday evening galas and events. For all I know, they were seeing one another before the divorce, as they became close rather quickly. Before long they were married and within a year, Toby was born. Why Karen bothered having a child I'll never understand. She didn't slow down any, still out every weekend, forever trying to convince daddy to hire a nanny, but he only said, 'Now, what sense does that make when we've got Sarah here. I'm sure she'd love to spend some time with her little brother.' That brings us right up to when you and I met."

"Talk about leaving a few things out," Jareth rose his eyebrow as he finished off the filet. "Did you even have a childhood or were you always the bratty, cynical teenager I fell in love with?"

"Oh," Sarah said with a grimace. "Don't say that. That sounds awful. You falling in love with a teenager, it's creepy."

"Creepy? I fell in love with your soul, Sarah. That which is as old as time, making us not so far apart when it comes to matters of age."

Sarah blushed, "Well, when you say it like that." She folded her napkin and put it beside her plate. Some rice and a bite of the salmon remained on her plate. "I'm stuffed," she announced.

"Then I shall have them hold dessert until we've had a chance to digest a bit." Shoving back his chair, Jareth stood and escorted Sarah to the open floor in the far back of the private dining room. "Such a lovely stranger to have happened across my path," he smiled down at her, his teeth white in the dim light of just the wall sconces. His hands fell to her hips, grabbing her hard and pulling her to him fast, "Allow me to break the ice." Jareth's lips fell hard upon her own, his tongue probing passed her teeth and deep into the hollow between her jaws, forcing her to open her mouth and accept him. For a moment she couldn't breath and then finally a small breath hitched in the back of her throat. She let it escape in a small sigh as she returned his fevered kiss, her small hands wrapping around his biceps as she surrendered to him.

'His kiss was amazing,' she thought as his tongue continued pressing hard against hers, while he alternated gentle tugging at her bottom lip. She had been kissed by men before, but something about his mouth, the shape, the feel was more erotic than any of them had been. Even when she thought he had loved Arulan, she couldn't resist him, no more than she could someone shouting her name on a calm summer day. "Mmmm," she purred into his neck as she caught small pockets of his skin between her lips and slid her tongue over them. Unable to resist she nipped him just below the ear.

"Sarah," he admonished playfully. "I thought you said you were no longer hungry."

"Sorry," she smiled.

Holding her to him in a firm embrace, Jareth ran his arms over the length of her back. "Now then, I believe you were going to tell me about your childhood."

"It's such a boring story."

"Nothing when it comes to you could be boring. On with it then," a wave of his hand and the room filled with music. He swayed her over the hardwood flooring as she spoke.

"I was like any other little girl I guess. Obviously I had a pension for fairytales. I dreamed of a handsome prince who would whisk me away on his white horse, instead I got a king and a black stallion."

"Upgrade I'd say."

"Indubitably," Sarah agreed. "When I was five, mother enrolled me in dance classes, when I was seven, my first voice lesson. Between school and lessons, I didn't have time for many friends, at least the ones that weren't imaginary. I wasn't very good at making friends I guess."

"I find that hard to believe."

"It's true. I wasn't very popular and the things that interest other kids, didn't interest me. I was content with my books though. Do you suppose it should have bothered me more?"

"What?"

"Being such a solitary child."

"I was what you would probably call a solitary child and I turned out fine."

"That's debatable."

"Is it now?" Jareth pulled her tightly to him and dipped her back. His lips fell on her exposed neck, his tongue gliding over her tender skin.

"Maybe we should skip desert," Sarah suggested.

Jareth grinned as he straightened her back to standing, "My, my, my, but you are a brazen one." Sarah looked at him, glaring at his comment. "I mean we have only just begun our courtship and you're practically begging me to..." He sighed, "Well if it's the only way to satiate your mortal desires, I suppose I must."

"Oh, so you want there to be begging. Fine your majesty, then begging there shall be, but it won't be from me." Sarah stepped out of his reach and smoothed down her dress. Crossing the floor she sat gingerly at the table and called for the servant, who came quickly at her summoning. "I believe we'll have desert now."

"You're kidding." Jareth joined her at the table. "I was kidding. Can't a king make a joke once in awhile without everyone getting so serious about it?"

"No, no, no, you bring up a very good point. We are only at the beginning of our courtship and were you and I to disrespect the upstart of this new relationship with something as basic and lurid as sex we would be cheating ourselves of this getting to know one another process we've been working so hard at."

"But we've already made love, Sarah dear. You own my soul."

"I know Jareth, but well that was a moment of heated passion, a temporary lapse in reason that I hope you won't find me entirely tawdry for allowing to happen. Besides, I rather like the idea of us dating, taking things slow. It adds a sort of wholesomeness to our relationship that, well that my parents would approve of."

The king's face hung nearly to the floor. He had agreed that they could take the relationship as slowly as Sarah would like, but he hadn't thought about the idea of going from making love on a moment's notice to a sudden halt in their intimate relations. "Yes, well, I wouldn't want your parents to disapprove of me." His chin settled into his palm just as an elf brought out two helpings of cherries jubilee.

Turning sideways in her chair, Sarah slipped one leg over the other at the knee, being sure to raise the hem of her skirt a couple of inches as she placed the cloth napkin over her lap. "It looks delicious, thank you."

Her tone was entirely too cheerful for the king's liking. "Yes, thank you," he muttered as his fork clanked in the bottom of his bowl.

With the elf gone, Sarah leaned over to Jareth. "Don't just poke at it. Something this sweet should be savored. Here," she gathered a large bite onto his fork and fed it to him, her tongue peaking out from between her lips as she did so. "There now doesn't that just explode in your mouth. One bite and you want to devour the whole thing."

"Indeed," he purred. His eyes lifted at the implied double meaning of her statement.

Another bite filled the mortal's mouth and her lips stained with the deep cherry coloring. Slowly she removed the stain from her lips. "This is absolute sex on a plate!" she moaned.

Jareth slammed his fork down on the table. Refusing to watch her torture him any longer, he chose a spot on the floor on which he transfixed his stare. Giggling, Sarah shifted her legs, causing her napkin to fall. "Allow me," Jareth said bending to pick it up. When his hands moved to place the linen back across her lap, he was unable to stop from noticing the fabric of her dress had been hiked up to the point of exposing nearly all of her thighs. "Enough is enough," he said in a low voice that sent shivers up her spine. One leather glove fell on either of Sarah's knees as Jareth threw her legs apart. "A king does not beg."

Through narrowed eyes, Sarah challenged him. "Not that I mean to dispute you love;" she snapped her thighs back together, although his offer had been tempting, "however, I'm willing to bet I can prove you wrong."

"Do your worst," he egged her on, still poised before her on the floor, his hands loosely around her knees.

"I assure you what I have in mind for you shall be anything but my worst." Sarah joined him on the floor by sliding down out of her chair. His hands fell beneath the her skirt and he squeezed her bottom hard as it seemed to fall perfectly into his palms. "And what have you done so splendidly you feel you've earned the right to touch me?"

"I did arrange for this dinner," he smiled slyly, attempting to capture her lips with his.

"Surely you're not going to rely on that old buying a lady dinner entitles you to something more tactic are you? That's a con older than even you are."

"You're right. Providing a meal and my desire to devour you are wholly separate entities. We should find some place more private to have this conversation."

"More private than a _private_ dining room? Do you know of such a place?" she feigned ignorance, but showed no hint of surprise when they magically arrived in Jareth's bed chamber. "Ah, this is what you had in mind."

"My dear, if I had transported us to where I had in mind you would be clutching my sheets and screaming my name by now."

"Jareth, tell me you're not one of those premature kind of men, are you?" Her finger trailed the underside of his chin as she turned, kicking off her shoes and walking slowly away from him in a straight line. "No," she declared turning to face him. "Nothing that fast will do. I have something else in mind, some thing a bit more time consuming." Sarah's magic summoned the water in the bath. It began to run, hot and steaming, filling the tub. "How do you like your baths, your majesty?"

"Hot, very hot."

"I'm glad to hear you say that. I just don't feel clean unless I've had a hot bath, the kind that makes you sweat so you're never quite sure if you've just gotten clean, or if your still dirty."

"In that situation, the only thing you can do is go over everything twice, thoroughly."

"Exactly what I was thinking."

Sunlight streamed in through the open window, causing both Sarah and the king to grind at their eyes. Sarah looked around. The bed was in total disarray, her torn slip still fed through the opening in the headboard. Her mouth felt dry. Had she really said and done those things last night? Looking down at herself she met Jareth's arm, slung over her naked hip and followed it to his face. His eyes were closed as he attempted to fight the day for just a bit more rest. Her hand fumbled with his glove. Perhaps they were fused on to his flesh? "Ah," he cried out in a short burst when he felt her fiddling with his hands.

Sarah jumped. "I hate them," she said pointedly. "Hands are the most beautiful part of the body and there you are keeping yours under wraps, forcing me to feel the silk or the leather facade when what I want is your flesh fully against mine, every inch. I wonder if I shall ever feel my cheek against your true palm? Feel your nails rake my skin?"

"What if my hands are gnarled and scarred? What if they are no thing of beauty after all, but discolored, hairy stumps? What if they revolt you so badly, you can't stand the thought of my touch at all, not even with the gloves to serve as a barrier?"

"They are not!" she laughed. "Nothing which is a part of you could ever revolt me. Even if there were hooves beneath these things I would welcome your touch like ground welcomes the sun for your touch brings the same heat to my surface, a warmth I bask in."

"Well, I'm glad some thing is pleased to see the sun." Jareth changed the topic as he sat up in bed. "I would have as soon let last night last forever."

Arulan knocked upon the door ready to bring breakfast into them. "Just a minute," Sarah called out and then turned to Jareth. "Do something?" she pleaded, her voice soft.

"Why? This is the precise scenario the woman's been working toward from the second of your arrival."

"Regardless, I don't want her to see us here like this." She tugged on the slip above her head.

The king smirked, "You're right. I shall cast a spell to scald out her eyesཀ"

"Jarethཀ" Sarah swatted at him.

"Alright, alright. You're no fun at all." His hand left her hip and with a graceful gesture, the room was back in complete order, Jareth was dressed in his pajamas and Sarah in a not too revealing night gown. There was no evidence whatsoever of the events which had transpired between them earlier. "Come in Arulan."

Though she tried to suppress it, a smile stretched across the elf's lips when she saw the two of them snuggled in bed with one another. They straightened up. Sarah couldn't help blushing. Setting a tray over the king's lap Arulan suggested, "If it isn't too bold your majesty, might I suggest moving Miss Sarah in here so as she didn't have to go too far to reach her things?"

"You might," he replied, "but that's Sarah's decision to make."

"Oh, well, I don't see," she shuffled her hands as Arulan positioned a tray before her, "why not. I mean it would be more convenient."

"Lovely. Then I'll have your things moved over this afternoon while you two are out."

"Out? We're going out?" Sipping her juice Sarah eyed Jareth over the rim of her glass.

"I hadn't yet gotten to that Arulan."

"Pardon, your grace. I think I'll be excusing myself now." She slunk backwards out the door.

"What have you in mind for me today?" Sarah asked cheerfully, suddenly intrigued by the idea of the king arranging these outings. Jareth went on eating his breakfast as if she hadn't said a word "Oh, so you don't want to tell me. Well perhaps I'll just make plans for this afternoon. I'm sure Hoggle wouldn't mind entertaining me, or Tiberon?"

Jareth's neck could have snapped with the force he used to face her. "Not even in jest, should you speak of Tiberon entertaining you. The whole matter of his behavior with you is deplorable. I may have tried to stop you in the past Sarah, but believe me when I tell you I am forbidding you to see him, here and now. Not just forbidding by the definition to which you've grown accustomed to having manipulated in your case, but forbidding in the strictest sense of the word."

Her hand fell on his cheek. She hadn't meant to upset him. "I'm sorry," she said lost in his blue eyes which had clouded up in anger. "It should make me just as happy to never speak his name again." Straining her neck, Sarah placed her lips over his and left a long, soft kiss, the heat from which lingered long after she'd broken their bond.

Amazed at her acceptance of him being content one second and then angry the next, Jareth watched as she returned to her meal as though he hadn't shouted at her. As if that single kiss resolved everything between them. If only all that was cracked could be fused together with a kiss, they'd have lived happily every after long ago. "I would like to take you out for a picnic this afternoon, that is if you wish to."

"Hmmm, a picnic you say? Well I was going to sit around and contemplate ways to freshen up the bog, but I suppose that can wait."

"You're right. I shouldn't distract you from what you're supposed to be accomplishing while you're here. To the bog with you it is."

"Jareth, now wait a minute," she explained with her eyes drawn up at the corner. " A girl's got to eat."

"And be eaten I'd say." He moved away his tray first and then hers, leaving her with a piece of toast held delicately between her thumb and index finger which he tossed over his shoulder to the floor as he pulled back the duvet and hovered over her. Sarah arched her brow at his devilish grin. A flick of his wrist and her nightgown disappeared.

The king had gone to his office to mull over the never ending flow of paper which passed by his desk. Sarah sat contemplatively on the edge of the bed. She'd been Underground for over a month now and hadn't had even the slightest hint of her cycle. Easing her hands over her stomach, she wondered if it were possible she had become pregnant. She and Jareth certainly hadn't taken any precaution, but surely he realized it would not be in her best interests to have a child, not when she couldn't stay. Tears began to plop off the skirt of her dress. "What are you just sitting there for?" Arulan asked as she entered the room. "Jareth's going to be by soon enough and you're," she stood in front of Sarah, "heavens, you're crying."

"I'm not crying," she lied, wiping her eyes, "I'm just...crying." Sarah fell back against the mattress, staring at the ceiling while she chuckled at what was beginning to feel like madness.

Sitting by her side, the elf took Sarah's trembling hand into hers, "What's the matter, dear?"

"Please don't think me too juvenile, but I've been here well over a month and there are things, normal things for a human female, that should occur regularly."

"Your cycle?"

"Arulan, it's not that I wouldn't be happier about this if I knew I didn't have to leave in ten days, but now is just not the time. I'm smarter than this. By thirty a woman knows better than to allow these things to happen to her."

"Oh my dear. Jareth should have explained all this to you." Arulan shook her head.

Sarah sat up, "No, it's not his fault. I know how my body works and in the back of my mind, I have always known we were taking a chance by being together."

"That's just it, Sarah, you weren't. The Underground is a very different place from your world. We've found ways to eliminate the aberrations that exist Aboveground. Unwanted children for example. Were you to stay here for a decade, you would never experience your cycle. Furthermore, if you were to want a child, you would have to wish to become pregnant. Assuming there was nothing physically wrong with you or your partner, your wish would be granted. Now, do you still have something to worry about?"

Sarah sat up, "No I certainly hadn't wished for that." Arulan smiled as she watched relief wash over the mortal's face. "Thank you for explaining that to me."

"I'm surprised Jareth hadn't done it himself, but never mind all that. Let's get you cleaned up and ready to go." Sarah went into the bath to wash her face while Arulan chose a dress for her from the wardrobe.

"Do you know where the king is planning on taking me?"

"Don't you like surprises?" Arulan asked her.

Sarah thought about it a second, "I've had so many of them recently, it seems as if I never know what is happening. It can be rather overwhelming."

"I suppose you have a point there. Fine, but you didn't hear it from me." Sarah readily bobbed her head in agreement. "Seems Jareth thought you might like visiting Chataigne."

"I would at that," the mortal agreed, now eager to be on her way.

"Yes, I see. I've chosen something for you," Arulan nodded towards what had become Sarah's side of the bed. "If you don't need me for anything, I'll be off to pack your picnic."

"Thank you," she told the elf. Before Arulan could turn to leave she found herself pulled into a warm embrace. She wound her arms around the girl, giving her a gentle squeeze. Choked with emotion, the elf turned and fled the room. Sarah went to the bed and smoothed her hands over the dress that had been chosen for her. It was plum, a slightly darker floral pattern made from raised patches of velvet covered the thinner cotton main layer. Sliding her arms through the three quarter length sleeves, Sarah felt the tight bodice conform to her waist. A gentle tug and the skirt fell tee length against her shins where it loosened just enough so that it could sway as she walked. The neck was open. Sarah felt behind her neck for the flaps which exposed her back. Wrangling the fabric between her thumb and forefingers and struggled to pull them together so she could hook the button. It proved more difficult than she suspected.

A warmth approached her neck. She felt her hair lift and one flap of the fabric cover her exposed shoulder. "Thank you," Sarah said, exchanging the neck of the dress for her hair.

Drawing the ends together and fastening the button, her assistant spoke. "My pleasure," the voice unmistakable. The lips that fell into the heart-shaped opening now created at the back of her dress identified the second set of hands which had come to her rescue.

"Your majesty, you're early." Sarah spun in his arms, smiling up at him. Jareth lowered his lips to hers and kissed her lightly but sincerely.

"Not early enough," he chided, caressing her back with his gloved hands as he readied himself for the thump he knew would be coming.

The back of Sarah's hand met with his chest. Escaping his arms, she stood before the full length mirror in their room and stretched out her hair in a pony tail behind her head. Her fingers rolled over each other quickly and fluidly as she wound her hair in a tight chignon. Jareth grasped her hips and pressed his lips against her neck. "Keep it up and we'll never leave this room."

"OK, but when everyone arrives to start moving your furniture, they're going to get a lot more than they bargained for." The Goblin King proceeded with his efforts to seduce his mortal. Sarah's eyes caught his in the mirror, casting a look upon him that forced him to pull back. "Oh, alright, we'll go, but remember this, you had your chance."

Smiling she said with confidence, "I'm sure I'll have my chance again."

As they neared the stables, Sarah could hear Chataigne whinny. "He's missed you," Gribbin said to Sarah. When they reached the fence around the stables he added, "And he wasn't the only one." With a bow to the mortal and another to the king, he let them inside the gate and excused himself.

"We have half a dozen horses here," Jareth explained. "Seven if you count the Shagya, but she is a very special creature. Of course you remember Chataigne and Bagheera."

"And that one," Sarah pointed to the Cheval, "Shadowmere, the horse I was supposed to ride when we went to see the Triumvirate."

"Indeed. There is also that bay colored mustang, that so far no one has been able to break and so he has no name. There, the cinnamon colored gelding, that is Turgomon's pride, a female he calls Cymeron. Running behind her with the patches of chocolate, black and white, is Dalkeil's Shindeagon. The two of them are what Gribbin calls the hens of the pen. They are never found far from one another and they have an almost superior air over the others." Sarah giggled at the idea of such human characteristics in animals, but they did trot in stride around the perimeter of the yard shaking their manes and snorting as though they were engaged in some secret conversation no one or nothing else was meant to hear or understand. A pure white rump stood out in a far corner of the pen. None of the other horses seemed to near the creature there, even the hens cut that corner off as they continued their monotonous circles. Her ankles bore a tuft of hair, long like her mane, curled like her tail. Even perfectly still she gave off an amazing delicacy. "You see now why I don't include her with the others don't you?"

"She's more than just a different species, she's like a whole other class of animal."

"That is the Lady Amalthea. She's got a certain animosity towards most of us here although we've an understanding between the two of us, she and I."

As if she had heard them talking about her, the Lady Amalthea turned a bit, exposing more of her side to them, shaking her head. She was pure majesty as she moved. "Jareth, she's a...a...amazing," Sarah finally managed.

"More so than you know. There was a time, a hateful time, when she was the last of her kind. The others, though not dead, had all been held captive by a..." Jareth fell silent.

"A human?" His head shook. "What I've learned about my kind prevents me from being surprised by the idea that one of us would be responsible for treating such a magnificent beast with such utter disrespect."

The Shagya turned and trotted towards her as Jareth continued, "Her breed are in general said to be tough, elegant, hardy creatures with great endurance and an inborn friendliness towards humans. That aspect of their personality alone, most likely made it easy for them to be captured." The expression on Sarah's face changed dramatically. "What is it love?"

Blinking, Sarah tried to explain away what she saw as a trick of the light, some misinterpretation of the sun's rays or her own eyes so used to magic and the mythicals which surrounded her they willed her to see the Lady Amalthea as something more. "Look at me," a voice spoke. Sarah knitted her eyebrows up while the words seemed to continue from inside her head. It was gentle and smooth, entirely feminine. "Look at me and tell me what you see."

"You're a unicorn," Sarah spoke in broken syllables as the regal white beast walked proudly up to her. The other horses, even the two ridden by Turgomon and Dalkeil, stopped to let her pass without even the slightest expression of inconvenience. Her horn sparkled as she walked, reflecting the sun left and right as she tilted her head. The Lady whinnied. "Jareth, why do you have a unicorn here?"

"You see her?" It amazed him that her soul was so pure. "You see her as she is, truly is."

"How can you miss her? She is the thing that fairytales are made of. She moves like mercury. She shines like silver. She is surreal, ethereal, divine." Just a few inches away, the unicorn's black eyes looked Sarah over. Black eyes, unlike Tiberon's whose were empty and void, Amalthea's spoke volumes.

"It is told that while the Lady attempted to save the others like her, she was made into a human woman. While inside her human body she fell in love with a mortal man. When she was made unicorn again, she had learned to regret. While the unicorns ran free, making their homes in the northwestern sector, the Lady no longer felt as if she belonged with her own kind. She came to me, told me her story and asked me to let her live among this collection of misfit creatures." Jareth's hand reached out to stroke the unicorn's mane. "Magic has caused this lovely beast much pain. She trusts no one here, but me and even that bond has taken time to form."

"I'm sorry," Sarah said, "sorry that you needed to know the pain of regret."

"Life is a balance," the unicorn told her. "I did feel the pain of regret and it is an ache I will never forget, but I have also felt the wonder of true love and that is a joy worth any ache."

The mortal's eyes filled with the tears the beast could not shed. Unconsciously, she reached out for Amalthea's cheek. To Jareth's shock, instead of running away the animal nuzzled into the girl's touch as they exchanged a compassion that transcended their species and spoke to what joined them as woman. Then as quickly as she had come to join them, the Lady Amalthea turned and trotted off, back to her corner of the yard, whinnying as she went. Sarah watched her run, raw power making the muscles in her legs tremble as her lean body cut through the air like a streamlined craft. "The poor woman," Sarah mumbled as she wiped away her tears.

"She's no longer a woman, Sarah. Despite what her heart tells her, she is a unicorn again."

"She will always be some part of what magic once made her. I can't tell you how or why I know that Jareth, but looking into her eyes I sensed it."

"Come walk with me. I was wrong to expose you to the Lady Amalthea, it has been too overwhelming an experience for you." Jareth held her left hand in his while his right arm wrapped around her waist. He felt her straighten at his touch.

"No Jareth, in fact meeting that beautiful creature has been a comfort I can't seem to put into words."

In silence they left the fence and began to climb the hill behind the stable. Sarah thought they might end up walking through the clouds for as high up as they traveled. But despite their attempt to reach the horizon, it continued to out run them. At the top, she looked around. She could see the stables, the horses tiny specks roaming around the fenced off area. A small lake hidden off to the left surrounded by a thicket of trees. While she took in the view, Jareth used his magic, to lay a blanket across the ground and then with a delicate turn of his wrist summoned the basket Arulan had packed with various fruits and cheeses, bread and wine. When they'd eaten there fill, Jareth lay back against the ground and encouraged Sarah to lean back against him. It didn't take much convincing for her to settle into his embrace.

They talked about silly things like lucky numbers and favorite foods. They discussed their childhood some more, and their first meeting. When lighthearted topics became exhausted, they shared a comfortable silence content with just being close to one another. As the bright light of afternoon began to dim with the orangish shade of evening, Sarah propped up on one elbow and stared into his eyes. 'Blue,' she thought. 'His favorite color.' It was obvious, the color of his eyes. But they weren't sky blue, not ocean blue, not midnight blue. They were this unbelievable anonymous shade of blue she couldn't name, but she could picture them. They were Jareth blue, Goblin King blue. That's what she would call it, just so she could name the color she couldn't describe. "What does it feel like to have my soul?"

"I don't have your soul," Jareth answered without thinking.

"But Hoggle said that fey _exchanged_ souls when they kissed."

He had hoped it wouldn't have come to this before she had to leave, but she was an inquisitive woman, one who deserved the truth. "It's true Sarah. Fey who are in love do exchange souls when they kiss, but Sarah love, you are not fey."

Her nose and lips wrinkled with confusion, "But I have your soul and I want you to have mine. There's got to be some other way." Her words came quickly in an effort for her to express her need. "I'll wish it to you if that's what I have to do."

Jareth held her close. "Sarah, I'm flattered you would make such an offer," his hands stroked her back. "Please don't take this offensively, but you can't wish your soul to me, it isn't allowed."

"Then tell me what is allowed. Tell me what I can do. Tell me what happens when they send me home."

"Sarah, we don't need to discuss this now."

"I want to Jareth. I need to know what happens when they send me home."

The king closed his eyes and sighed, then lay back and held her to him. "When you return home, you will take my soul with you and I will be unable to love anyone but you for the rest of my life." Sarah moved to interject, but Jareth stopped her. "It doesn't matter Sarah, I wouldn't have been able to love anyone else even with every stitch of my soul still inside me." He left out the knowledge that he would die in time. It was pain she didn't need, pain he didn't think she could tolerate.

"And me? What will happen to me?"

"In time, my soul will fade. You remember me explaining about things from my world existing in yours and how it's no longer possible?" She shook her head. "When my soul has completely faded, I will be a memory to you. Well that's not true. You won't remember me. In fact you'll forget everything about me and the Underground."

Lips trembling, Sarah pushed away from the king, "That's not possible. I could never forget you," she cried. He said nothing and refused to meet her stare. She was angry with him. Convinced he was lying. "How could I forget you when every cloud I see takes your shape? Every word you say, turns to song in my ear. I think about you every moment of the day. It would be asking me to stop, to stop my heart from beating. Asking me to forget to breath. You expect me to just go home, go back to whatever pathetic life I had without you and pretend you weren't real? When they ask me where I've been, what would you have me say?"

"It's not what I want Sarah, it's what rules of my world say will be."

"What will be? Rules? When you fought your way back through the Labyrinth, when you came Aboveground for me, were you following the rules? Was our seeing each other again what they say would be?" Jareth didn't answer. "I don't believe in what your world claims will be. You, you made me believe in fairytales again and now you want to take it away." Sarah stood, screaming down at him as if she could change the truth by cursing it away. "You told me not to say I loved you unless I could say it truly and then you tell me I have to forget when I leave. What's sense the sense in loving today, what I won't even know tomorrow?" She turned away from him, holding herself as her body shook with sobs. "I don't even know you now!" Like she had watched the horses run, her legs imitated their strength as she let momentum carry her to the bottom of the hill. Jareth didn't follow. He didn't pop back into the castle where he knew she was headed. He only lay back against the hill once more and watched the clouds passing by him. Amalthea was not the only immortal thing who had learned to regret he realized as the tears from his eyes rolled over his temple and soaked his hair.

Inside the castle, Sarah took the stairs two at time, ignoring anyone who tried to talk to her. Throwing open the door to her old room, she quickly remembered it had been consolidated with Jareth's while they were away. When she entered their room, she flung herself onto the bed. "Why!" she cried out to no one. "Why when I was just beginning to think I could love him like he needed me to, why then do I push to learn the truth? The truth has never done anything, but hurt me. And the truth is, I love him. I love him with everything that I am. I love him for everything that he is for now I finally see all that he really is." Sarah cried until her eyes went dry. Jareth hadn't returned. None of the servants, not even Arulan dared to disturb her.

When night blackened the window, Sarah lit the fireplace and wished for her guitar. Crossed legged on the bed, her Gibson fell into her lap. Her fingers tripped over the strings, the light vibrations speaking to her. Out the window she looked at the stars. There was a whole universe she didn't understand, there was magic and mystery abound for her to contemplate, but all her mind could conjure was her king and all she had come to learn of him since his confession to her. Sleep to her had always been a luxury, one she enjoyed, but tonight it was a necessity, one she accepted.


	32. Chapter 31

**CHAPTER THIRTY ONE - CRACK IN THE PAST**

When Sarah awoke, she wore a thin, pale green chemise and the bed was empty, not so much as a lingering indent in the pillow beside her. Her guitar was propped in the corner by the dresser. She had been playing and singing and then...nothing. Assuming she'd fallen asleep, Sarah's recollection of the evening began to grow dim. Putting the guitar in the corner, changing into the nightgown, crawling under the duvet, all things Sarah could have easily done, but none of which she had even the faintest memory of. Giving up on trying to make sense of these things, she focused on the fact Jareth was missing from the bed. Her hand smoothed over his pillow and over the mattress, not a degree of heat remained. The king hadn't been to bed last night. Quickly, she sat up and swung her feet out from under the covers.

"Good morning," came a voice from the sunken seating area just before the fireplace near the door to the king's chamber. Jareth was tucked in on the couch, a cup of something hot clasped in his hands. "Are you through being angry at me?"

"You didn't sleep in bed last night?"

"I didn't. When I came home, you were already asleep. Without your permission, I felt unable to share our bed. I used magic to change your clothes and tucked you in. Your guitar is..."

"Is in the corner, I saw."

"I hope you don't mind my taking the liberty."

"No, not at all. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Jareth told her as he set down the cup and smoothed his gloves over his unruly mane restoring it to its normal glory. Standing to stretch, the Goblin King let out a long yawn. Sarah noticed the muscles beneath his pale skin roll as his arms extended high over his head. Stepping towards her, Jareth asked, "May I?" as he motioned to the bed.

"Of course," Sarah scooted over to make room.

Strong arms pulled her to his side as he joined her. "I have you for such a short time more, please Sarah, don't tear yourself from my side again."

"I'm sorry about last night." Her head fell to his shoulder.

"Don't be. I should have explained it to you sooner. There's so much I should have told you sooner than I did. If anyone should be sorry it's me." Squeezing her chin between his thumb and forefinger, Jareth gazed deep into her eyes. For a moment Sarah thought she'd seen the enlarged pupil of his left eye swirl with clouds, but when his lips caught hers she lost her concentration. "I know this has all been very hard for you, being out of your world, seeing the things you've had to see. I have a surprise for you," the king told her. If she was to tell the truth, being Underground hadn't been hard at all. The thought of returning home, that had been her most difficult idea to date, but being here, with him, the pure escapism of her life, of her mortality, of her responsibility, had been a dream. Before her eyes Jareth's hand made a familiar rolling motion as a crystal appeared perched on his fingertips.

"What's that?" she asked.

"It's a crystal, nothing more."

"But," she added, "if you turn it this way..."

He smiled knowing what it was she meant. "Yes, I deserved that. It will show you your home, your family, all the things you've left behind. I thought after all this time you might be a little homesick."

Sarah took the crystal in her palm. "Thank you," she said, kissing him quickly on the cheek. "I'll have a look at this a bit later, when I'm alone."

"Don't let me keep you. I'll just change and be on my way."

"No, no, that's not it. I...um...I just don't feel like thinking about home, not just yet anyway. We haven't even had breakfast."

"What is it you say? A girl's got to eat." He summoned two trays, then tucking in shoulder to shoulder with her, they had breakfast. The crystal sat on Sarah's bedside table. Looking into it terrified her. Things between she and Jareth were complicated enough without finding out something about home would further complicate them. "Not hungry?" Jareth asked when he noticed how she just pushed the food on her plate from side to side.

"Guess, I'm just preoccupied," Sarah smiled.

"You know what I think?" She just shook her head, a demure innocence in her eyes. "I think you ought to take that crystal down to the music room where you can have some privacy and I think you ought to do it right after breakfast."

"What's so urgent? Is something wrong back home?"

She called Aboveground home. Nothing wrong with that, it was her home, but Jareth had rather hoped she'd have developed some allegiance to his world. "I've no idea. With you here, there's no reason for me to look to the Aboveground. I just want this preoccupation of yours taken care of. After all, I've lost one night by your side because of my foolishness, I won't lose another."

At this, Sarah gazed at him. He was handsome. No matter how often or how long she looked at him, that fact remained. "No," she said sincerely, "no you won't."

Piano keys rose and fell beneath her gentle touch as Sarah played. Staring at the crystal in her palm, she wondered what she would see. Would it be something making her want to return? Was that possible at this point? Notes echoed off the vaulted ceiling while the sun lit up the bright white room. "La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la," Sarah sang along as the fingers of her free hand drilled scales over the keys. Despite her feeble attempts to ignore the orb Jareth left with her it distracted her, even from something as mundane as scales. "Fine," she said, slamming her spread out fingers against the keys forcing the piano to groan at the impact.

Sarah twirled the crystal upside down as though it were a snow globe. "Show me the Aboveground," she instructed.

Setting the orb on the top of the piano, she watched as the first image began to solidify from the swirling smoke that seemed like mercury beneath the surface of the crystal. It was Sarah's father, bent over his desk, his hand on either side of his head attempting to cover his ears. As the image became more solid she could hear Karen's voice loud in the background, her words obviously directed at the frustrated man. "She's exactly like your ex-wife. That's why you're so lenient with her and look at what good it's done? Sarah's as disillusioned as her mother was, following romantic notions to the end of the earth and standing there patiently waiting to be pushed off the edge. How could she walk out on Christian?"

"How could she not?" Robert asked back. "From what little I know he didn't deserve my little girl."

"Precisely, what _little_ you know."

"I'd know more if it weren't for you wanting me to keep Sarah so far removed from us."

Karen came to his side, her hands falling on to his shoulders, "I did it for us."

He spun on her. "You've never done anything for us. I understood why you wanted me to get rid of everything that reminded you of Linda, but had I known your plans included my daughter, I might have been less willing to go along with your wants." Leaving her standing there with her mouth agape, he left the room. For the first time in longer than she cared to remember, Sarah felt bad for her father, bad that Karen had shown herself to be the witch Sarah had always known she was.

The image began to change. This time she saw Christian. Seeing the petite blonde at his side, was no surprise. Just as they settled in next to one another on the couch, the phone rang. Groaning, Christian leaned forward to pick it up. "Hello...oh hello. Can you hold on a second?" His hand cupped the mouthpiece of the phone. "It's my agent. I'll just be a minute." The blonde nodded as he backed into the bedroom where he removed his hand from the phone and said, "Sorry baby. The guys came over to watch the game and it's so loud in there, I can't hear a word coming from your sweet lips." There were pauses of various lengths as the party on he other end spoke to him. "Saturday? Oh, no Saturday won't work. I've got auditions at 7:30. How about Friday night?...Of course I'm excited...I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks...Vanessa, you know that kind of talk makes me crazy. You're sending me out into a smoky room full of men with that image in my head. Do you have any idea what this is doing to me?...Oh I bet you can...Friday night...6:00...I love you, darling."

He reentered the livingroom. "What did your agent want, honey?" the blonde asked him.

"I have an audition for a commercial Friday night." he said nonchalantly as he took his seat next to her. Christian had succeeded, albeit barely, at juggling two women once. Those few days experience seemed to give him a taste for it.

She pawed at him, eager at the idea of him picking up a job. "When will you find out whether you're getting the part?"

"I'm not sure."

"Oh, maybe you'll know by Saturday night when we have dinner with my parents. Then we'd really have a reason to celebrate." The blonde straddled his lap, kissing him long and deep.

Sarah wasn't surprised by Christian's behavior. In fact, she was glad to see that he'd at least gotten better at being deceitful. Lord knew he wasn't good at anything else. The next image was of Toby. He sat behind the wheel of a black Trans Am. Must have been a gift for his 16th birthday, Sarah rationalized. A young redhead with tight ringlets of hair sat in the passenger seat. The sky around them was dark, the radio played softly and Sarah had begun to wonder why anyone would want her to see her little brother out on a date, parking with a girl.

"I had a good time Toby, but I think I should be getting home."

Sarah watched on as her brother reached out and pressed one of the buttons on the stereo so the digital display switched to the time. "It's early, Angel. You're parents said you didn't need to be home until 11:00 and it's only 9:44. We've got time."

"I know what my parents said, but," his arm folded around her shoulder as she spoke, "I'd really like to go home now." Sarah's stomach flipped as she watched her little brother kissing on the girl in the passenger seat of his car, ignoring her multiple requests to return home. "Toby, I don't want you to think I'm easy," she pleaded right before she gave into kissing him.

"Believe me," he said breaking their kiss, "this hasn't been easy."

Sarah looked away. None of this was anything she wanted to see. Regardless of her intense desire to keep turned away, the crystal called her back. She gasped as she saw her mother, together with the man who romanced her away from her tiny family. They were in a small dark studio apartment. Linda's make up dripped down over her cheeks as she clung to the man she'd left everything behind for. "Please don't leave," she begged. "Give me two weeks, I'll come up with the money."

"Face it Linda, you aren't the beauty you once were. No one is going to offer you work with you looking, well, your age." It wasn't entirely true, for as Sarah pressed her nose against the crystal desperate to see the mother who had been absent from her life so long, she could see that Linda looked far older than she really was, far more weathered and ragged. Sarah's mother hugged her knees to her chest as she took a long drink of something Sarah was positive contained alcohol. At 52, Linda Williams was finally tasting some of the pain abandonment could bring. She finally had something more in common with her daughter than just acting.

The images continued to rotate as Sarah's hands began to troll over the keys, a random series of notes taking shape until they sang from within the upright like a choir. She began to think of Jareth and all they had been through these past few weeks. Looking back at the crystal she watched the images flip. Her father, his eyes filled with tears. Christian continuing to spin his intricately developed web of lies to the woman in his arms, the girl in Toby's car, her eyes beginning to mist up as without caring, he continued to kiss her while his hands reached beneath her clothes. Lastly, her mother still huddled on the floor. Arulan crossed her mind. The elf who served as Jareth's mother after Leanan Sidhe died. She was trying so hard to keep Sarah and the Goblin King together. Her attentions returned to the crystal where the images continued to alternate. Tears flooded shamelessly from her eyes when she asked the question this time. Oddly enough Maeve popped into her head, Maeve and Jareth, Darien and Arianna. When she thought about her having to leave the king, Sarah broke down. Between tears she spoke softly, "Not even in a world where forever was invented." Sarah flung the crystal against the wall where it shattered and then disappeared. Her arms folded one over the other and supported her head as she flopped forward onto the piano, sobbing along with all the people she had just seen inside the orb.

Jareth stood in the hall, his black glove wrapped around the side of the door, propping it open enough to let him hear her singing. His heart ached for her and the pain she didn't need to know. Mentally, Jareth had been acquiring a list of all the questions she had asked him for which he had no answers. The king added the words of her song to that list.

Just then a goblin grabbed the king's coat tails and tugged hard. "Your majesty," he whispered as his small fingers curled back toward himself indicating to Jareth to follow him. "Your majesty, there's a girl gone and said the words."

"Not now," he muttered. "Not with Sarah here. She can't see me taking away someone's child. Find Deverell have him go and explain the rules to this girl." His hand twisted the fabric of the goblin's tunic tight around the creature's throat. The king stooped and dragged him in close to insure they would have an understanding. "He's got to go in my place."

"Do you really think he's ready?"

"I'd rather lose the child than upset the mortal. Just have him do it!" Jareth released the tiny man and stood up.

"Yes sire," the goblin conceded as he waddled away from the king.

The Goblin King hadn't asked Sarah about what he'd seen that day in the music room. It was her own private moment and he trusted if she had wanted to talk to him about it, she would have. Instead, it seemed she'd thrown herself into their relationship, as if their succeeding as a couple would somehow make up for the failure of the relationships she'd witnessed in the crystal. Far be it for Jareth to complain. He knew they didn't have forever and he hoped he could make up for the lack of quantity by making her last eight days quality ones. He rarely left her side. He planned outtings for them, romantic dinners, everything he could think of to show her how important she was to him and how much he valued her.

Even when he would go to the office to work, she would join him. As Jareth sat behind his desk mulling over his paperwork, Sarah would sit nearby, her nose in one of his many books. This particular afternoon nothing could hold their attentions. Every few seconds, Jareth would look up and over at Sarah, watching her eyes as they shifted back and forth absorbing the words, page after page. A few strands of hair had fallen down from the twist she'd put them in, covering her eyes. Smiling, he thought about going up to her, pushing back the veil of hair and looking lovingly into her eyes before claiming her.

When the king's eyes returned to his work, Sarah's head would lift. One finger swept her loose hair to the side, tucking it behind her ear where it would no longer obstruct her view of the Goblin King. She watched him pouring over the requests. Now and again he might chuckle at what he read, but mostly he just smiled, the same disarming smile that consistently played with his lips. It was impossible for her to watch him smile and not smile at him in return. When Sarah caught herself grinning from ear to ear, she'd look away, focus on her books again, giving Jareth another opportunity to observe her.

Their game of peekaboo lasted a couple of hours before Jareth said without looking up, "Sarah, can you come over here?"

"Um huh," she said quickly hoping he hadn't caught her watching him. She stood and crossed the room. As though she were one of his midmorning appointments, Sarah stood opposite him the wide desk separating them. "What did you need?"

"Come round to this side," he said waiving his hand. Obediently she stood at his side. Once in arm's reach, Jareth grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into his lap. She let out a tiny cry before giggling. "I simply can't work with you in the room."

Sarah frowned, "Should I leave?"

"Absolutely not," the king ordered as he smoothed her hair back behind her ear. His eyes roamed over her. Jareth knew he couldn't bear the idea of her leaving for a few minutes let alone more permanently. "I would be happy if you never left."

Her head nuzzled his neck, "I know." Her lips were never able to resist his skin and this was no exception. Jareth's head tipped back slightly as she began to kiss at his neck and chin. Her mouth crawled over the peak of his chin and their lips joined. The same feeling of nervous excitement which had always accompanied their kissing rose in the pit of her stomach and forced her chest to flutter. She couldn't help wondering if that feeling would ever go away while praying at the same time it never would. Just as their kiss began to deepen into something more needy, one of the ever troublesome goblins came running into Jareth's office.

"Your majesty! You're majesty!" he cried as he came in. "Your majes...oops," he said when he saw them engaged in their activities. "Miss Sarah, I have business to discuss with the king, if you'll excuse us."

Sarah left the king's lap and straightened her dress, "Certainly."

"No, now, just hold on a moment here. First of all, this is my office and you will knock before you enter it." The goblin nodded. "And this is my mortal and she shall be excused only upon my command." The goblin nodded again. "That being said, what is it you so urgently need to discuss with me that you would see fit to burst in here as you just had?"

"The child," he began hesitantly. The king grew nervous. It had been well past the twelve hours allotted for such games, surely he hadn't meant the child he told the other goblin to have Deverell deal with. "We've done our best to try to calm him, but it's been rather a challenge."

"A child you say?" he pretended to not know what this goblin was talking about. He knew it was a serious matter for the goblins had elected to send one of their more intelligent specimens.

"Yes your majesty. The child wished away to us by the girl Deverell met with."

"How long has a child been in this kingdom without my knowing?" Jareth added to emphasize his innocence.

"Just about 48 hours now, your majesty."

Rising from his seat Jareth paced around his desk to confront the small goblin, "That's not possible! Everyone knows the children are given only 12 hours before they're reassigned."

"Ah yes, that is the standard; however, this child's wisher has found the oubliette where time stands still."

"I can't even find the oubliette where time stands still; how in the name of the bog did the wisher."

"She is a crafty young female sire."

'Not the craftiest we've seen' he thought as he smiled at Sarah. "No use in complaining, what's done is done. So there is a wisher hold up in my maze?"

"Yes your majesty a 14 year old female who answers to the name of Winifred and certain variations thereof."

"And she is stuck in the oubliette where time stands still. Thus, she cannot be harmed, cannot grow hungry, and until she volunteers to leave the oubliette, cannot seek out the child. She must know, by now, the oubliette is having some kind of effect." Jareth continued to pace as Sarah looked on surprised, though she knew this is what happened in his world, it still seemed odd to her on some level. Is this how things progressed when Toby had been taken? "What of the child? Why is it being so difficult?"

"The child answers to the call of Lloyd. The finest of your female staff, including Arulan has had him in their care. He has been changed, fed, rocked, sung to, entertained and yet he cries. He's not slept, eats very little and what we're able to get in him, is often regurgitated when his frustration overwhelms him."

Shock began to distort Sarah's face. Jareth approached her as lovingly as he could and suggested that she spend some time in the music room while he tended to the situation at hand. "But I could..." she began to interjected.

"Sarah, I'm sorry, but I cannot allow you to interfere with these matters." His words were somewhat abrupt. Turning her head to the side and looking at him coldly, she contemplated starting an argument, but then opted to leave. Jareth's hand caught his falling head, "Bring me the child," he commanded through gritting teeth.

"Right away your majesty."

Back at his desk, Jareth turned his head toward the ceiling and sighed. "How else shall you test me?" he said into the air, "and shall I ever pass?"

Lloyd was brought before the king wearing an orange sleeper with black hash marks. The hood was down, two small ears built into it and off the child's bottom a small springing tail. "No wonder you won't stop crying," Jareth said as he lifted the child from the goblin's arms. "Look at how they have you dressed." Lloyd's small red face looked up at the king, his lips in a pout as he continued to hum a whine from his throat, fresh tears gathered on his cheeks Lloyd stared a few moments, quite in the awe of Jareth's newness, before he blast loose with a fresh set of high pitched wails making even the Goblin King flinch. "Well then, I'll take him back to my chambers. In the mean time, someone get Deverell and tell him to work with Turgomon until they've come up with a some resolution to this situation," the child let out another dreadful cry, "quickly!"

The child was no quieter when they were standing in the king's chambers. "Let's get you into something more comfortable," Jareth suggested as he waved a hand over the infant. The elaborate suit became a simple green onesie sleeper. "There, now that's better, isn't it?" Jareth asked as he held the baby over his head and smiled up at him. After a few second of silence, tears began to fall again. Jareth tried to sing. He started with typical lullabies and segued to the songs he'd sung for Toby. He'd expended his entire knowledge of appropriate songs some time after two in the morning. By that time, Sarah had managed to come to terms with this practice being just a part of Jareth's job, it was quite nearly four o'clock in the morning and the Goblin King was practically hoarse. She stood outside his chamber door listening as the child continue to wail, despite the attempts made to soothe him. Sighing, she burst open the door.

Lloyd, surrounded by pillows squirmed in the middle of their enormous bed. On hands and knees Jareth made his way to Sarah. "Please, for the love of all that is mythical, please, I beg you, make him stop." Smiling down at him, Sarah offered her hand to help him to his feet. Jareth ran his hand through his disheveled hair. "You don't understand. He hasn't stopped, not for even a second." They looked down on the fussy babe. "I can see why they wished him away."

Peeling away the pillows which confined him, Sarah scooped little Lloyd into her arms. "You're horrible," she said. One hand held the baby's backside as the other swiftly thumped his back while Sarah walked and bounced the child.

"As if your in a position to throw stones," he said coldly. "You've wished one of these things away before."

"Because you're tired and cranky, I'm willing to overlook that you would stoop so low." Sarah undid the snaps between the baby's leg and pulled up his onesie. Her finger pulled away the back of his diaper so she could peak inside and see if he needed a change.

"No good. He's dry, he's fed, he's got to be exhausted. Something must be dreadfully wrong with it...er...him."

"He's probably teething," Sarah concluded. Standing before the drink cart in the seating area of Jareth's chambers she asked, "Can you get me some honey?" Shakily Jareth waved a hand. A honey bee materialized on the cart. "This is a honey bee Jareth. I need honey...you know like the food."

Slunking into a chair, the king attempted to focus blurry, half closed eyes on the mortal. "Can't you just milk it or some thing?"

"Jareth," she shouted snapping her fingers before his face in an effort to get his attention. "No, I can't _milk_ a honey bee. Now concentrate this time." Forcing open one eye, he looked at her as if to say, 'I was concentrating.' Rather than argue he merely made a second attempt. This time he succeeded. Sarah mixed the honey with a few drops of brandy and smeared them on the infant's gums. Beneath the smooth surface of his reddened gums Sarah felt the familiar buds of new teeth. "That's sore isn't it sweetheart. Yes, I know." Lloyd brought his swollen gums clamping down on Sarah's fingers. "Go on and gum me if you want, but you'll be thank me in a second." Undaunted, she went on applying the mixture around his mouth. Within moments he was quiet. Lloyd's eyes were incredibly heavy, now that he wasn't springing tears from them. "Poor dear," Sarah told him. "You haven't had a good nap in days, have you?" she asked bouncing him with his backside in the crook of her left arm.

"No I haven't," Jareth answered lazily.

"I was talking about the baby," Sarah reminded him. Sarah tucked the baby back into the protective wall of pillows, but he still fussed about, too tired to sleep. She smiled down at him. "I only know one lullaby kid, so you're going to have to meet me half way, okay?" Sarah thought he might have smiled back at her, but it easily could have been the brandy. "Right then. Over in Killarney many years ago, me mother sang a song to me, in tones so sweet and low. Just a simple little ditty, in her good old Irish way and I'd give the world if she could sing that song to me this day." A sudden spurt of energy struck the king as he got off the chair and lay at the child's side. His glove ran over the baby's tummy as his whining turned to cooing. He gazed at Sarah in admiration as she continued to sing, "Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li, Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now don't you cry. Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li, Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby." She enjoyed watching him with the child now that Lloyd was calm and the king appeared content with him. "Oft in dreams I wander to that cot again. I feel her arms a huggin' me as when she held me then and I hear her vice a hummin' to me as in the days of yore when she used to rock me fast asleep outside the cabin door." Both Jareth and the child had fallen asleep by the end of the second verse. Sarah crawled into the bed. She wrapped one arm behind the head of the king. Lloyd was nestled between them, Jareth's hand on his tiny tummy and Sarah's hand on the pillows that surrounded him. Thinking she saw the baby jolt, Sarah repeated the refrain, "Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li, Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now don't you cry. Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li, Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby."

When she awoke, Sarah saw Jareth in a chair, Lloyd in the crook of his arm contentedly suckling a bottle. She couldn't help but to think how natural he looked with the child, natural and handsome. Sarah fought back a smile, but eventually lost. "How's he doing?"

"Amazing," the king's turned his attention from the baby's face to Sarah. "I can't get over the difference that little concoction of yours made."

"Family recipe," she chuckled sitting up in bed. Jareth came to join her. "You are a handsome little thing when you're not all mean and fussy," she said in the way adults often reduced themselves to when conversing with children.

"It's in my genes," Jareth said proudly.

"I meant Lloyd."

"Hmfph!" Jareth snorted.

Shaking her head, Sarah added, "You're handsome too."

"Well if you insist." Jareth moved the baby to his shoulder and doled out a few sturdy taps along his torso until the now quiet child erupted in a giant burp, now ready to finish his bottle.

"May I?" Sarah asked, reaching for Lloyd. Jareth handed over the child and then his bottle. As Sarah fed him, the king slid his arm over her shoulders, holding her close to him.

"Where did you learn how to do all this?"

"Toby," she said at first. A moment later she mentioned a few friends Aboveground who had children.

"How is it that Christian has never given you a child?"

"Giving doesn't come easy for Christian to begin with. Not to mention, he's still a child himself." He looked at her in a way that let her know he knew she was avoiding the point. "I was just never sure I wanted a baby with him. I at least wanted to be married first."

"I shouldn't have asked."

"No," she said. "I'm glad I never wound up pregnant while I was with Christian." She meant that, in fact, she wasn't sure she had wanted children at all but, admittedly this experience with Lloyd managed to change her opinion on the topic.

"Well, when your time comes," he reached around her with his other arm to tickle the baby, making him giggle in agreement with what the king said next, "I'm certain you'll excel at caring for the child."

"What's going to happen to this little guy?" Sarah asked.

"Deverell reasoned with the girl. Since technically, she had lasted the entire 12 hours and bested me by finding the oubliette, I agreed to return the child unharmed, despite her not having found him. In return, she'll be forbidden to wish away this or any other child again."

"So, beaten by another girl," Sarah taunted.

Clearing his throat the king retorted, "Because she did not solve the Labyrinth, it will not be recorded as a win."

"Uh huh, she beat you!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!" Lloyd laughed at them. "See that? We're entertaining him by acting this way, what does that say about us?"

"We'd make great parents." Sarah had no reply.

Lloyd finished his bottle without fidgeting or complaining. One more burp and he was laughing and giggling with them, allowing the king to tickle his toes while Sarah squeezed his cheeks. Arulan came into the room sluggishly. Odd, when normally she would bound in cheerfully with a warm breakfast a joyful good morning. Her eyes never left the floor as she gave a quick curtsey and then spoke lowly to them, "Your majesty, Sarah, I've come to collect young master Lloyd." The elf's somberness spread throughout the room and infected everyone inside. Even the baby's attitude seemed to change.

"So soon?" the king asked.

"I'm sorry your grace, but as it has been arranged, the child is to leave with his sibling first thing this morning." Sarah struggled to hold back tears. "Please Jareth, I've already had to do this once too often in my life, don't make this more difficult."

Compassionate to how difficult this was for her, Jareth left the bed, used his magic to dress both himself and Sarah in something semi-formal. Lloyd was perched on his elbow, busily playing with a few feral strands of the king's hair. "Come," he said to Sarah extending his hand. "We'll return the child." Sarah took his hand and stood at his side. Her fingers wiped away a few tears which she'd lost the battle to restrain. "Arulan where will I find Winifred?"

"In the main hall your grace."

He could have easily transferred the lot of them to the main hall in a second, but instead they walked down the hall and toward the main stairs. When Winifred looked up at the impressively attired Goblin King, her brother in his arms, she began to quake. "You're real," she whispered.

"Indeed."

"When you didn't come for Lloyd I just assumed the fairytale had been embellished a bit."

"Your assumptions are of little concern to me," he said coldly. "What concerns me Winifred is your relationship with this child and the carelessness with which you've treated that relationship."

"How is that any of your concern?" the girl asked, feeling as if she was being attacked.

Jareth handed the child to Sarah, who readily took him. Then he closed in on the child's sibling. "Careful with your tone child. I realize my assistants have made a bargain with you, but mind you their words do not out rank mine and I'm notorious for changing my mind." Winifred's confidence was obviously shaken as she refused to meet the king's stare. "Ask the girl who holds your brother. She's familiar with my flights of fancy. I can treat you kindly one moment," Jareth circled her, his right shoulder lowered toward her as he stared down at her, "and the next I can find you frivolous by comparison. Granted you have outsmarted me this once by locating my time suspension oubliette, but I find having spoken to you that it was most likely by luck rather than by intellect or skill. No one better understands how troubling it can be to listen to a child scream continually than I, but had you even attempted to come to this child's aid before you hastily wished it away?"

"No," she admitted weakly, "but you don't understand."

"You are correct," Jareth did not allow her to complete her excuse. "I do not understand why you would not want this charming child to feel well and comfortable." He waved Sarah closer. "Give her the child."

Complying reluctantly, Sarah handed over Lloyd to his sister. "I've been where you are. If you remember nothing else of what is said to you here today, remember this. He's fully dependant upon those of us who are older and more capable for all of his security and care. Don't take him for granted. I promise you, you will regret it."

Tears filled Winifred's eyes. Sarah's words had perhaps touched her more deeply than all of Jareth's intimidation. "As we agreed," Jareth began again, "you and the child will be returned Aboveground where little more than a few hours will seem to have passed. Your ability to utilize even the correct words for summoning goblins is revoked. You will never have the opportunity to wish away a child again. I sincerely hope," he went on lifting her chin to look into her eyes, "you will learn something from your visit here." A swirl of his hand and a crystal perched upon his finger tips. He gave it a toss into the air and as if fell down the girl and the baby disappeared. The crystal popped like a bubble and dissipated. Sarah stepped to the king's side and he held her close. This had been difficult for both of them. In fact, Jareth could only recall one other occasion when he found dealing with infants to be so emotionally difficult and Sarah had been involved in that scenario as well.

He turned her around and headed her back upstairs. At the landing, Arulan stood, her face streaked with tears. "We'll be retiring to our chamber. I don't believe we'll be partaking in breakfast this morning." Arulan nodded as she watched them walk by.

Jareth sunk into a tub of hot water and attempted to allow the steam to carry off the stress of this event. Sarah sat in one of the large chairs by the fireplace, her knees hugged to her chest. Transfixed by the fire, she soon found herself unable to blink. Forcing herself to look away, she blinked repeatedly until her eyes became moist again. She noticed the 5x7 photo on the mantel and took it in to her hands. It was a photo of Jareth parents. From their dress, she inferred it had been their wedding day. The Leanan Sidhe wore a lace gown, the combs in her hair, those same silver combs which Sarah had worn during her first masquerade and her last. Around her neck, hung from a string of pearls the medallion Jareth had given her to wear. The symbol of the Triumvirate, that symbol she had only seen as possession before, hung in the hollow of her neck. Her black hair in complete contrast to her ivory gown. Ian wore black breeches, a white painter's shirt and a black frock coat. He looked out of place, as if it were attire he were not entirely accustomed to, not the way Jareth wore those same clothes with strength and stature like a second skin. Suddenly Sarah felt overcome with appreciation for those adornments which until now, she had resented.

It occurred to her just how interesting the decor of his room was. She replaced the photo to it's original spot on the mantle and found herself captivated by a sword hung above the fireplace. It was finely crafted, the metal seamless where the blade joined the hilt. The handle elegant and yet rigid with deterrence. Her fingers folded over the handle and without actually trying, the sword lifted from it's holds and she was easily able to lower it before her chest. It must have been heavier than it felt, Sarah thought as she braced herself for the anticipated weight. Instead it was no heavier than the child she had held just this morning. The blade began to feel as if it belonged in her hand, as if it had purpose. A sharp pain shot through Sarah's mid-section and the sword fell to the stone floor. Jareth came running into the room and fell to his knees at her side just as Sarah collapsed. He lay her head in the pooling silk of his robe, balancing it easily between his thighs.

"Sarah," he called as he pushed back the hair from her face. She only grunted back at him, the pain making words impossible. "What happened?" The king noticed the sword on the floor and immediately began feeling her over, afraid she had been run through by an attacker. "What's going on with you?"

Images filled Sarah's head. A much younger Oberon at the dining table with his wife and two sons. An appreciative Corwyn roping the same medallion Jareth wore over his throat. Darien, the familiar sword twisting in his hands. His narrow eyes entranced by the reflection of light in it's broad blade. As though she were sitting at the table watching them, Sarah saw Oberon's eyes fill with worry. She felt an overwhelming sense of doom.

Time flashed forward, Corwyn and Darien playing chess at a small table. Her head snapped back in the king's lap, only the white of her eyes showing. Jareth tried to call for help, but was distracted when Sarah shouted, "Leave, Darien, leave and do not return." The two mean were engaging in a heated verbal assault.

The next series of images flashed by very fast, but at the same time they were so graphic, they appeared to her in slow motion. Corwyn, drunk crawled into bed. His sleep restless. Then she saw Darien's face in the window, smelt the woodsy mirth of magic in the air. Together with Corwyn's image she jolted awake. Darien held the sword high above his head. The fractionally iron blade caught beams of moonlight and ricocheted them in all direction. Her eyes widened and her body began to tremble. "Someday I knew..." was all she managed before the searing pain of the blade ravaged her mid-section. The heat of iron coursed through her veins and in an instant the tainted blood struck her heart. Sarah clutched her chest.

Jareth was shouting now, for Arulan, for anybody, to come and help her. "Sarah, Sarah," he called over and over. "You're not Corwyn, whatever is happening to you isn't real and I need you to realize that. I need you to come back to me. Sarah!" Each word grew more frantic than the next.

She heard him, only he sounded miles away, certainly further than the few inches he truly was. He needed her? What did he need her for? She was right there? Couldn't he see that? Slowly the burning in her stomach subsided, the pounding of her heart died down to it's normal thump. Sarah's eyes began to focus and she could almost make out Jareth face hanging over hers. "What am I doing on the floor?" she asked as she became more and more aware of his surroundings.

"I was hoping you could tell me," he admitted pulling her into his embrace.

Arulan and Turgomon came flying into the room. Arulan saw the sword on the floor, "My word, she's been attacked."

"Attacked?" Sarah asked.

"No," Jareth told them. "She wasn't attacked at all. She had some sort of seizure."

The king stood and helped Sarah to her feet. The foursome occupied the seating area before the fire. Jareth paused before joining them to replace the sword above the mantle. "It wasn't a seizure either. Jareth I think I had another vision," Sarah said when he sat beside her.

"But you called out my grandfather's name?"

"I know," her shaking hands covered his. "I know. Oh my, Jareth, there is no easy way for me to tell you this."

"There shouldn't be anything you feel you can't tell me. Whatever it is, I will understand."

"I don't understand," Sarah sobbed. "If I don't even understand, how the hell could you?"

His hands held hers, a simple inane gesture which bought with it a significant warmth and sense of security. "Sarah, darling, please, whatever just happened to you, I need to know. I will do my best to understand and to help you understand as well."

"Where do I begin?" Sarah asked aloud. "Everything came quickly at first. Oberon with his sons and his wife. Corwyn opening the necklace while Darien opened the sword. Then a bunch of images that I suppose were meant to represent the passage of time, because then it was Darien and Corwyn alone in the king's chamber, playing chess. They were yelling and screaming at one another. Darien said dreadful things about his father and his mother for that matter, Corwyn ordered him to leave and he did."

"That's the night my uncle was murdered," Jareth interrupted. "It had been rumored that Darien had killed him, but I suppose we know better now." The king was almost glum at the idea the deed had not been committed by his grandfather. All these years of being bitter and supposing, he'd grown to despise Darien which suited him fine.

"Jareth, I'm not finished." His face took on a sudden spark of interest. "Darien left, having slung no more at Corwyn than words; however, he did not stay gone." Turgomon's hand supported his chin as he anticipated what was coming next and Arulan drew her knees into her chest. "Corwyn was alone in the castle. He'd excused his entire staff." Her eyes closed as she attempted to recall more of the images from the vision. "I had the strong smell of magic during my vision. Darien must have used his magic to get to the window. That's how he came in. His heart was filled with hate and contempt. Opening the window he slid inside. At first he just looked at his brother, lying in the bed, tangled in the duvet as a result of a restless sleep. He was fighting himself then for just a moment, rationalizing that what he was about to do was Corwyn's fault, for if he had not discussed taking a bride, the events about to come to light would have remained in the darkest corners of his heart. 'Had it not been for this,' he thought, 'I would have waited.'" Opening her eyes Sarah saw she had the full attention of everyone in attendance. "Must I continue," she pleaded.

"Tell me Sarah. I'm begging you. Tell me how he killed my uncle. After all these centuries living with the myth, you can give me truth. Let that be your gift to me."

The king had a point. Everyone deserved a little truth, closure and she could bring him that. With a driving sense of obligation, she met his desperate eyes. "Corwyn began to stir. Just as he grew alert, Darien drew the sword, held it high above his head, as high as his arms would allow it to rise." Sarah imitated with her arms. "Then just to be sure he drew up the extra inch standing on tiptoe would afford him. His brother spoke to him, 'Someday I knew,' for I believe he knew Darien would mean his death as much as anyone can know their death and the hands at which it will arrive." The Goblin King knew Sarah could not realize the painful truth she spoke, for though Jareth's death lied in her hands and he knew it all too well, he allowed her to remain ignorant. "Then the cold iron mix of the blade ran through him. Their cries were indistinguishable as they filled the night air. Two cries of pain, cries of anguish, cries of loss. It only took a moment for the iron to hit Corwyn's heart. He died swiftly as it exploded in his chest." Sarah paused in her recounting of the experience when Arulan gasped. "Mad with anger, Darien turned the blade before he withdrew it from Corwyn's lifeless body. He cast a spell to shatter the window glass inward and another to remove his brother's blood from his blade, then he drew a dagger and stabbed himself. As he ran through the castle and out into the Goblin City he concocted the truth he sticks by even today." Sarah took Jareth's hands into hers. Her chest ached, part from having felt Corwyn's pain in her vision and part at the look of shock on his majesty's face. Her soft lips kissed the leather coating of his knuckles. "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, sorry that it ever happened. Tell me what I can do to help you come to terms with what has come to pass."

"You can tell the Triumvirate, if what you speak is the truth," Turgomon replied.

Jareth snapped his head in the direction of his assistant. "I don't believe the offer had been extended to you."

"If the girl is honest, if she is the seer she appears to be, then the Triumvirate will take her word as law and Darien can finally be brought to justice, isn't that what you would want your majesty?"

"More than anything, but it is not our decision to make. Sarah," he said turning back to her, "the Triumvirate could respond many ways to your confession. I leave it entirely up to you, but if you were to see fit to tell them what you just told us, it would mean Darien's finally being held accountable for what he's done."

Mulling it over, Sarah tried to make a quick mental pros and cons list. It could mean her being sent home. It could mean the Triumvirate sending her immediately despite the remaining days she had. Leaving the Underground, leaving Jareth, leaving all she had come to love, but none of that compared to knowing that this fey would go on living freely when he had stolen life from another. "I'll do it Jareth, whatever it means, I'll do it."

He held her close, fearing it might be the last time he'd have opportunity to do so. "We'll go tonight," he whispered into her hair. "No sense in prolonging this."

Sarah wanted to argue him, wanted to suggest they wait until her final day, in case they did send her away, but Jareth had waited so long for this resolution, she couldn't force him to wait any longer. "Jareth, are you sure that's wise?" Arulan spoke the words Sarah could not bring herself to say. "They could send her home."

"One way or another Arulan, the Triumvirate will send me home. We all knew this would be a temporary arrangement. I'd just as soon face them tonight and get it over with." As if he hadn't realized it was a possibility until just then Jareth held her at arm's length, "Sarah, she's right."

"We'll go tonight," Sarah said with determination. "No arguments." Jareth pulled her close once more, covering her lips with his and kissed her appreciatively. Turgomon left to make arrangements with the Triumvirate. Arulan watched them kissing a long moment before she too took leave.

"Are you sure you want to do this Sarah? If they send you home now I'll, what sense is it to deny now, I'll miss you no matter when you leave."

Looking at the elf who had been so kind to her during her stay, Sarah said, "And so you see why the timing makes no difference to me. I only wish the matter to be resolved. Arulan, you've been extraordinarily kind to me. There aren't thanks enough to give you for all you have done. I will miss you dearly, but I shall recall you fondly." Her heart sank as she realized, she would not recall a thing of the Underground or it's inhabitants once she arrived Aboveground. In an effort to hide her frustration, Sarah pulled Arulan close and hugged her tight.

Descending the stairs, Jareth watched them. His world had never been the same once Sarah had entered it and it would not be the same when she was gone. He knew her leaving meant his death and much as his instinct made him hate the speed with which it would come, he was glad that his life without her would be a short one, comparatively. "Are you ready?" he asked as he drew nearer.

Releasing the servant and wiping at her eyes, Sarah nodded. "Yes I am."

"Are you sure?"

"As I will ever be, my love." While it was not a confession of her feelings, the token of affection seemed to stop time for both of them. In that second, in that selection of words, she had made it clear that she had chosen him above all others.

Jareth's arm wound around hers and Sarah filled with the familiar warmth of transporting. His free hand folded over her fingers as a tear rolled over her lid and down her cheek, for she had realized she would never know the feel of his true hand.

By the time she felt strong enough to open her eyes again, they were standing before the Triumvirate. The Sage had returned to his seat at the left hand of the Gavel after having served his punishment. All three looked critically at the king and his mortal. As was tradition, the Gavel spoke first, "You mean to tell us the girl has sight."

"Indeed," Jareth spoke evenly.

"It's not that I want to dispute you Jareth," he continued as if the king's confirmation meant nothing, "but certainly you realize taking your word for it would be, well less than bipartisan. After all this enlightenment comes far into the lady's visit with you and what she has to tell us would be in your best interest. You must see where it could be considered suspicious."

"In my best interest?" Jareth had intended this to be the visit during which he did not argue with the Gavel, but then again, Jareth had that intention for every visit. "How is it in my best interest to have confirmation my uncle's death was at the hands of my grandfather? As for your suspicion of me, Gavel, 'tis a trait you assigned me long ago. I anticipated you're bringing it up now."

"It is in you're best interest because it would prove that the acts committed against your family were the result of one mad man and not on whole a sampling of what we could expect from your _royal_ bloodline."

"Time has proven that," he rebutted.

"And so it has gentlemen. Let us not cloud the issue with cruel suggestion and harsh retort. A simple spell, to induce one of these visions and you can see for yourself Gavel," the Cleric suggested.

"A test," he purred sitting straighter in his seat. "What says you miss? Will you subject yourself to a test for authenticity?"

Hesitation shown on her face. Jareth leaned towards her and tenderly spoke, "You needn't subject yourself to this. I will not stop them, if this is what you want, but I will not force you if it is not."

"A test," she said boldly, stepping up to the Gavel and meeting his eye.

Motioning his hand, the Gavel invited the Cleric to cast his spell upon the girl that they may get on with what he believed would be a short meeting. The Cleric took her hands in his, "Won't hurt a bit dear, may even tickle a little." He spoke in a language foreign to Sarah, foreign even to Jareth, an ancient and musical language which seemed to lull her to dream as she stood before him.

As the images started to form, Sarah's body grew limp and Jareth brought a chair to her side at the Cleric's request. There was a tall and regal looking man, dressed as the king often dressed. He kissed his teary-eyed mother and shook his father's hand, then turned and left through the front door of a rather fine looking home. It was no castle, but it was not a stump in the middle of the woods either. Outside he mounted a horse and rode deep into the forest. There he met a young maiden, scooped her up on to his horse, wound his arms around her and with a tender kiss they road off. The image changed. The woman, now a bit older with two small boys at her feet, each trying to goad the other. In the distance, hooves pounded against the ground and the woman left the children and flew to a window to look out. Despair ravaged her face. She spoke a moment to the man who'd come on horseback and then ran wildly to her bed where she cried out a fearfully lonely moan. The man took the two boys aside and whispered words to them. One ran to his mother's side. The other remained motionless and emotionless. Sarah stepped inside him, she felt his pain, she felt his anger. As the Triumvirate watched on, a tear left her eye and raced toward her chin. A second later her eyes flew open.

Nonchalantly, the Gavel asked, "What did you see?"

"Perhaps, it's best if we try the spell again," Sarah suggested.

"I knew it. A fake! You've brought me a fake Jareth. I've spent all these years trying to prove how little you can be trusted and you wind up doing the job for me in seconds."

Sarah's back stiffened. The Gavel did not know the fury he was unleashing. She had tried to avoid this, given him the opportunity to turn back, but he insisted on charging ahead, a bull with no fear of the matador. "I saw a man. A regal man on a black horse. He wore fine clothes of red silk and a vest of black leather with boots to match. He was riding deep into the forest. Stopping at a hut, he sweeps a woman into his arms. She is not a fancy woman, certainly not a royal. Her clothes are plain and worn, boldly patched and re-patched in the most obvious places. Her hair is thick with filth and her skin is darkened, not by the sun, but by the earth which she has worked in all day. Regardless he kisses her and they ride off. Shall I go on?" The Gavel was speechless and Sarah took that for permission to continue. "Years later, the same woman, while still plain and simply dressed is much cleaner, standing as two small boys run circles around her each trying to one up the other with some rapier comment." Sarah's eyes leveled at him, he had pushed the issue and it was about to come to a head. "You heard hooves pounding outside, headed toward the house. Your mother stopped what she was doing and ran to the window to look out. You didn't follow her and you stopped him from going too. You were sure everything was as it was meant to be, so you went on playing your innocent games. When the knock came at the door, you chalked it up to your father playing a game as well, probably stood just outside a bundle of wildflowers in his hand to give to your mother and the thought made you ill. 'Why must they always act as if they had only just met?' you questioned when he did these things, things which brightened her day and lightened her heart. But today, there would be no game. That man was not your father, not riding your father's horse and your mother did not smile when he was through." The Gavel's mouth hung open and his eyes were wide. Jareth watched, not yet fully understanding Sarah's sudden shift in the tense with which she recounted her vision. "Your father was dead, victim at the hands of a sneak attack during the raids. Your mother fled to her bed and wailed. Your brother joined her, but you couldn't grieve and you couldn't encourage others to grieve. You were too angry, angry at the illogical world which could allow an immortal thing to die. When it brought you no satisfaction to hate the dead, you began to hate the living. You hated her for not keeping him from leaving, hated her for making him soft with all the lover's games they played, hated her for living when he was dead and for looking for love again when he was gone. You hated your brother for not hating her. You even hated yourself for believing your father when he told you nothing would happen, nothing could. You began to hate everything that represented life and love, everything illogical. The idea of a royal with anything less than a royal, the idea of half breeds and cross classes. You became a man of fact and man of law, unable to trust in what you could not see." Sarah left her chair and approached the stoic member of the Triumvirate. Before him, she knelt her hand on his knee. "Do you believe in what I see, even though your eyes cannot? Do you believe what you have become is nothing of what he wanted for you? Do you believe that even now, were you to go to your mother and offer her your love she would accepted it willingly and pledge you hers? For all these things are fact. There is no book I have read nor confession I have heard that tells me it is so, but my heart can feel their pain. Their pain is your absence, in body and in spirit."

Silence filled the room from wall to wall and ceiling to floor like a thick, heavy immobile fog. At long last, the Gavel brushed Sarah's hand from his knee and cleared his throat, "Yes, well you are a seer and your words are law so I suppose I'm forced to believe." Everyone knew the words were not easy for him to speak, even if they were cold and unfeeling as they left his lips. The Gavel believed her a seer and she'd changed more than just his mind, Sarah had changed his life. "Announce to the Underground and all surrounding kingdoms, there is a price on Darien's head. He is to be brought before the Triumvirate for justice and any one or many who bring him here will be handsomely rewarded."

"My lord, I would gladly bring him to you with no expectation of a reward at all," Jareth offered.

"You're too close to the matter Jareth, leave this to your subjects. I want him alive, death is too easy an escape for him." He paused before adding, "Your business here is done. You may go."

"What about me?" Sarah asked hesitantly. "Will you be sending me home?"

"Sending you home? Quite the contrary miss. You've stirred this can of worms and you'll remain here until it's settled again. You can't just go causing trouble and then running away from it," the Gavel spat.

"Causing trouble? You turn a blind eye to centuries of deceit and deception all in the name of not wanting to ruffle feathers and I'm the cause of your trouble," Sarah raged. The Cleric quickly came to her side and began shuffling her out of the Great Hall. "Some change he's made," she huffed.

Quietly, the Cleric whispered, "Sarah, there is a phrase in your world, a leopard cannot change his spots. I don't believe that, but what I do believe is with patience he can change one spot at a time. Look at Jareth, he's not nearly the ogre he once was and thanks to your vision, I may live to see the day when the Gavel is as subdued, but until then let's not force him into regression, shall we." He handed her off to the king. "Yes, well then, thank you both for coming by. We'll be in touch." Jareth walked her outside before transporting them home. The Cleric returned to his seat at the right hand of the Gavel. "Leaves very little room for argument, doesn't she?"

The Gavel eyeballed him sternly, "You did this with your spell! You made her envision my life, didn't you?"

"Come now, I induced the vision, but fate chose it's form and I'm sure fate knew you would be more inclined to believe something of a personal nature or perhaps someone just felt it was time to help you let go of your past and the pain it has caused you."

"Bullocks! You summoned my past and crammed it into her skull. The whole thing was rubbish! Call her back, I revoke my declaration."

"You know you can't do that. You know I can't do that. I don't have the kind of power necessary to plant suggestion, none of us do. It would be inappropriate for our positions."

The Sage interrupted them. It was not his way to so boldly participate in the conversation, but his stay with Ranofyr had changed him. He'd learned to speak with his heart lest he were to become one of the hateful things that roamed the Northeast sector as if life and loyalty had no meaning to them at all. "Gavel, trust me when I tell you to look upon one's self with judgment is the hardest act you'll ever perform, but to do it well, is to live again, a life free of guilt and sin. To cleanse one's soul is to fly and it would seem you've just been handed wings. Try not to take it for granted."

"Who are you to advise me?" the Gavel growled. "It was I who sent you to that damned place where you were able to do all this soul searching and reflection. You owe your _flight_ to me!"

"I do, indeed. You gave me one of the mostly deeply moving personal experiences my life has ever had. It is that experience from which I implore you now." The Gavel said nothing, only removed himself from his seat and headed off.

"You've done well," the Cleric told the Sage as he slung his arm around the fey, "for him and for yourself."

"What were you thinking?" Jareth asked Sarah when they were back in their chambers. "He as much as ordered you to stay and you go starting an argument with him. I swear that mortal pride of yours gets you in more trouble than you're aware."

"I just didn't feel it was right, his blaming me for a few centuries of lies told long before I was a glimmer in my father's eye, is all."

"No harm," Jareth decided as he hoisted Sarah into the air and spun her around him. She smiled down at him. Their visit to the Triumvirate had made him happy, for that she was glad. "Come now," he placed her feet to the ground gingerly, "I'm starving and I know you must be too. Let's eat."

Downstairs they joined Arulan, Deverell, Dalkeil, and Turgomon. Elves brought out trays for both of them and filled goblets with wine. No one said anything. They all wanted Jareth to speak first. Arulan prayed this would not be her last meal with the girl, but Sarah did not appear particularly pleased. Dalkeil eyed the king, but he was as unrevealing as ever. After they'd finished their salads and the main course was served, Jareth rose his goblet and took to his feet. "A toast," he announced. "My mortal has seen to it Darien will be brought to justice for his crime. The Triumvirate's paige is spreading word as we speak. There is a reward to anyone or many who bring him into them alive. We humble few are excluded from the hunt, unfortunately, but I have great faith he will be found and greater faith he will be made an example of. As for my lovely Sarah, she is being forced," his lips curved high in a smile that spread ear to ear pausing for emphasis, "to stay with us until this matter is resolved."

"Brava!"

"Hear hear!"

"Hizzah!"

"Fine show!"

The cheers came so fast and from so many directions, Sarah could not tell who had shouted what, but it didn't matter. She had been accepted. These fey and elves and goblins which sat around her had taken her into their hearts, welcomed her into their homes and now they rose their glasses to her. Tears filled her eyes while she rose her cup too and thanked them for their praise. "Three cheers," Arulan shouted. "Hip hip."

"Hooray!" came the reply.

"Hip, hip," she called again.

"Hooray!"

"Hip, hip."

"Hooray!"

By the third call the kitchen staff had come to the service window wandering about the commotion, just in time to see Jareth lean over and kiss the girl. "I'm so glad you're staying," he confessed.

"She's staying," whispered one elf to the next, who in turn hollered it back to the preparation staff, who shouted it to the cooks, for they had trouble hearing over the clattering dishes and before long concentric cries of, "she's staying," wafted into the dining room.

"Guess I'm staying," Sarah said doing her best to smile, but her only thought was how much harder it would be to leave when the time inevitably came.


	33. Chapter 32

**CHAPTER THIRTY TWO - TO BRING ONE MAN TO JUSTICE**

Once word of Darien's evil doings made their way through the Underground, he could hardly poke his head out a window without fingers jutting or threats being shouted. Eventually Arianna told him she could no longer endure the threat to her own well being. "I've done a lot of things for you Darien, turned my head to your numerous indiscretions, even covered the tracks of more than one of your lies, but I won't risk dying for you. A seer has confessed your crime, nothing you can say will change anyone's mind, including mine." Outside their home a herd of hooves ran closer and Darien widened his eyes.

"You sent them for me?"

"What darling? It isn't like I was planning on keeping the reward."

"You sent them after your husband?"

"My husband? When have you ever been my husband? When you were off screwing anything willing to lie still for the minute and a half it takes you to satisfy yourself? When you went on a hunting expedition while I gave birth to your daughter? No, it must have been when you stayed home during your child's funeral service? Never in all the time I've been with you have you ever been made to pay for your sins and I have a good idea you got away with murder, literally, even before then. Today it ends. Our marriage, your borrowed freedom, the lies, everything ends." Arianna had always been an assertive woman. She'd been waiting for this opportunity. Divorce was not an Underground concept, leaving him unacceptable, but the Triumvirate had paved the avenue for her to drive him from her life.

The back of Darien's hand crossed her cheek, "You bitch!" His eyes searched frantically for some potential method of escape.

"I hope you enjoyed that," Arianna said, rubbing her face. "But I assure you, I will enjoy the severity with which they restrain you far more."

"They've not caught me yet," he said. He threw open a window and jumped out, running for his life, quite factually.

"Through here!" Arianna cried to the men as they circled the home. "He's gone out the window, quick, follow him!"

By the time Darien reached Tiberon's castle, his breath was rapid, his face flushed. He had to run quite the distance before enough space existed between he and his pursuers to allow him enough time to concentrate on a transportation spell. "Son," he heaved at the door, "do your dad a favor and let me inside."

"The entire realm is after you and now you claim me as your son?"

"Tiberon, my boy, I was a fool. It wasn't me who denied you. It was Arianna. She always wanted her miserable daughter to be queen. She never cared that I had you. Why live in the past when we've such a future to look forward to." Anyone with half a brain could have seen through his sugary words, but when someone was as desperate for their father's acceptance as Tiberon was, they welcomed the facade because even a false feeling of love was better than none.

Without further hesitation the representative undid the lock on his door and invited his father inside. "I've waited for this day," he told Darien. "I've prepared for it."

"Have you now?"

"Well not exactly. I've prepared to dethrone Jareth, seeing as how I should have been the one to hold it after you. Now it seems the fey who has brought you such misery is none other than the fey who has kept me from my rightful spot in your shadow."

"Jareth is responsible for the realm's searching high and low for me?"

"His pet mortal. She's the seer."

"A mortal?" Darien asked rhetorically. "They want to try me based on the ramblings of some mortal?"

"A seer," Tiberon corrected.

"Who cares? She's a mortal, not to mention completely smitten with Jareth and would most likely say anything he asked. It wouldn't surprise me if he'd written it all down for her."

"They say she was tested by the Triumvirate." Darien looked at the Representative curious as to why he had switched to defending the Triumvirate so quickly. "Never mind that. I have the best defense we could have against the king. Come with me." Darien followed him, intrigued at his promises of the ultimate defense. "This is the Shadow King," Tiberon said as he introduced his father. "Physically like the King in every way, but for his hair and eye color. Emotionally comprised of everything evil about the king."

"Well not _everything_. I mean I had to leave him a little something to keep him from being too boring," the Shadow King admitted as he shook Darien's hand. "I believe I can accredit most of my attributes to your genealogy."

"Amazing," Darien said as he circled the Shadow King. "You're pitting Jareth against himself."

Tiberon glowed with pride. "It was my intent. Let's have a brandy and I can catch you up." As Tiberon detailed his accomplishments with Jareth thus far, Darien couldn't resist asking, "Why would you dismiss Maeve? Given her relationship with Jareth, I should think she'd make a fabulous addition to our tiny throng."

"Perhaps, but she completely botched our last agenda," Tiberon rationalized.

"Be that as it may, I think she could help us now."

"Well she's not speaking to me."

"She'll speak to me," the former king said coyly. "Just get her here and I'll convince her to rejoin us."

"She won't come for me."

"She'll come for me," the Shadow King offered.

Tiberon smiled broadly, "I believe she would."

"Oh she has!" the Shadow King grinned.

"So you've hid here without being discovered for how long?" Darien was suddenly interested in his methods for staying incognito.

"Weeks."

'Plenty of time,' Darien thought. "By then we'll get my boy on the throne and he'll see that nothing dreadful happens to his old man, won't you son?"

"Anything you want father." His obedience was horribly sad, almost pathetic. His allegiance would never be returned, but Tiberon didn't think so far in advance. He was content to get through the present and let the future take care of itself.

Maeve's bony knuckles crashed against the door, forcing the sound to echo through Tiberon's castle. The Shadow King pulled back the door and leaned his shoulder against the jamb. "Maeve, darling, it's fabulous of you to agree to see me again."

"Never mind how marvelous I am. I'm no idiot. I know you've gotten me here because Tiberon needs me. If he admits that I might stay," her declaration raised the brows of the look a like Jareth.

"Won't you come in." He led her to the dining room where Darien and his son waited for them. Maeve curtsied to the former king and took the seat at the table furthest from Tiberon. "Now Maeve," the Shadow King said as he draped himself in a chair next to her, "Tiberon was a bit hasty in his treatment of you, I admit that, but we stand to gain so much from taking over Jareth's throne, it'd be a pity if there weren't enough of us to share in it."

"To hell with making it sound appetizing," Tiberon shouted as he slammed his fist on the table. "If you don't help us, Jareth dies."

"Are you insane? Given recent events," she eyed Darien, "You know exactly what assassinating a king will get you. You can't kill Jareth." Though Maeve did her best to seem uncaring, she had no doubt they were capable of the deed.

"Oh how wrong you are love. I can and without you there to stop me I will. What's best is no one will ever know. The Shadow King with a quick dye job," he snapped his fingers and the rich black strands of the Shadow King's hair glinted gold, "will assume Jareth's position on the throne. He'll speak to his subjects of the sudden change of heart he's had. Explain to them how now that he's been made aware I am the rightful first son of the former king, he's graciously stepping down from the throne. In return, I'll offer _Jareth_ my position as Representative."

"Fine. You'll be king. He'll have a real life rather than living in some cell in this place. As king you'll free Darien from punishment for his brother's murder, what do I stand to gain from this?"

"Always thinking of yourself aren't you Maeve?"

"Someone's got to look out for me," she told him.

Tiberon leered at her from the far end of the table, "You dear, stand to gain the heart of the king, for who will he have to love once his precious Sarah is gone."

"Gone. So you plan to kill the mortal."

"Indeed. All of this trouble is because of her. She's turned Jareth against you, made him happy again, done _so_ much for the Underground and now she claims to be a seer, hence father's conundrum. She's perceptive, she'll sense Jareth is in danger and rush to his side. Anything can happen in a fray, you know that. She'll die first and Jareth will watch." Maeve's face sparked with interest as he continued, "Then Jareth will join her, unless you agree to help us."

Darien leaned over to flash his eyes at her. Admittedly, he still harbored a certain charm, even centuries past his prime. "Your involvement in our little coup de tat is imperative dear. Yours in the first maneuver, setting the pace for all to come. Please say you'll lend a hand."

"What exactly is it you want me to do?"

"Simple," the former king explained. "We need you to draw a potion, something we can put in the water, something which will infect all of Jareth's goblins, rendering them completely useless as an army. Then you'll lure Jareth from the castle and we'll take care of the rest."

Her eyes rotated around the table, taking them all in, hunger evident on their faces. Decisions to be made weighed on her. She thought about letting him die, for he had scorned her. The Shadow King was here now and Maeve could entertain herself with his company for an impressively long while. Why did she need Jareth? Not to mention a front row seat to watch the mortal die. She wondered how she would hide her elation. If the king caught her reveling in Sarah's death, he'd be far less inclined to run off with her when they were 'spared' from Tiberon's rule. "I'll help you on one condition."

"Name it," Tiberon snarled.

"When all has come to pass, you'll send us away, Jareth and I, across the mountains if necessary, but away from everything he's known here, everything which reminds him of her."

"Agreed." The men said in unison, leaning back in their seats and exchanging sneers with one another. Their satisfaction poured out in cackling laughter, echoing against the walls.

In the basement of his castle, Tiberon had organized a lab where Maeve could work. Pulling open the door, he shoved her roughly inside. "Three days Maeve, not a minute more. Three days from today, we carry out our plan and if you're not ready, if you're not by my side, Jareth dies. Work hard love."

When the stone door shut behind him, Maeve growled into the empty room. Having to be submissive to him made her reconsider whether or not Jareth was worth all this. Ultimately she concluded it was and set about mixing powders and potions to test on the woodland creatures. Darien kept a stock for her to use. Day and night she experimented with incoherency potions, anti-coordination serums and ineptitude powders. Nothing worked. Goblins were already a clumsy breed and these didn't seem to make any difference, if anything it seemed to have an adverse effect when used on a clumsy creature. It would take something more she decided. They'd need to sleep. It was the only way to be sure they were of no use to the king. Maeve began with a base of Valium, adding chamomile and poppy seed. It was a good beginning. The spell took effect fast and resulted in a deep state of unconscious, but it lacked staying power. She tried all sorts of chemicals. None worked. A variety of herbals, but none accomplished the goal. Every magic she knew and still, not enough. She'd heard of a rare black flower, the pollen from which had been the same used to poison apples and spinning wheel needles through out the ages. The magic allowed the castor to proclaim the length of the spell. It was a rare flower, blooming only at night, in the deepest crevasse of the thickest tree in the very center of the woods. With only one day left to fulfill her duty, Maeve called for Tiberon and explained she would need this as the final ingredient for her elixir.

"In the very center of the forest," she reiterated. "And this is no blade of grass. It is said the flower blooms out of the soil where a witch's body was burned. That rather than a ghost, she lives on through the blossom. You must leave something in place of what you take. Something to please the witch's spirit."

"Eye of newt," he chided.

Maeve glowered at him, "Don't be so stereotypical. A true witch can find power in the air around her, that isn't the point. She's giving you a piece of her magic and you must give something of yourself as well."

"Then I shall piss on her grave before I leave," he snarled.

Grabbing his arm, Maeve pulled him to her. "A witch is nothing for you to mess with Tiberon. If you want to die before you have your chance to take the throne, carry out this little plan of yours, but if I were you, which thankfully I am not, I would seriously rethink the amount of seriousness with which you handle this task."

"Why don't you go pick the fucking weed then?"

"It isn't a spell being cast for me. If you want the magic to obey you, you must be the one to command it." He turned to leave. "One more thing, you mustn't pull it from the ground. When you make your offering, if it is accepted, the bloom will tip gently on its side and remove itself from the earth. Only then are you permitted to pick it up. Seal it in some sort of bag and bring it to me, quickly. If I'm to ready a potion for you my noon time tomorrow, I'll need it before midnight."

Outside the door, the Representative thought over all she had said. "Rubbish," he whispered.

Walking through the forest made Tiberon wish he had paid more attention to his sector. He was wandering around for hours with absolutely no clue where the center of his forest was. He started to examine each large tree he came across and after more than an hour of searching, found the crevasse and spotted the flower. He'd brought a dagger with him and lay it on the ground but nothing happened. "What do you want from me?" he shouted.

'Blood,' he heard whispered on the air.

The representative jolted, "What?"

'Blood,' the wind said again.

Clasping the dagger in his hand, he drew the steel blade over his palm making a small cut which he allowed to bleed onto the ground near the flower. The stem bent and then broke very close to the base. Tiberon picked up the bloom and headed home. His hand was thumping and he was angry at being forced to injure himself for a flower. A little after eleven Tiberon returned with a leather sack, inside a rich black bloom, the circumference of a serving tray. Her hands gloved, Maeve held the flower gently, as though it were made of crystal, and brought it to the cauldron where her base stewed. A half dozen times she forced the stem to collide with the palm of her hand causing silver dust to fall from the flower. "Name your duration."

"Twenty-four hours," Tiberon chose at random, sure that would be enough time. Rather too much than too little.

"So it is done." The stem and bud in her hand disappeared. "The potion must brew another five hours. Just before morning we'll add it to the castle's water supply. Anyone who drinks, who is not of mortal blood..."

"Will fall into a deep sleep from which they shall not awaken for a period of 24 hours."

"And by then their world shall have changed forever." Tiberon took her by the hand and spun her around the room, "You've done it again, positive genius you are!" Spinning her in to him, the Representative lowered his head for a kiss. Maeve turned her cheek to him. "Saving yourself for Jareth I see. Fine, if you are able to get him to want you, let him have you." Slamming the door he left.

Just before dawn, Tiberon snuck up to Jareth's castle and poured the brew into the water supply. When the first ray of sun came up of the hill, the goblin's filled the city. Goblins, being notorious for there insatiable thirst, begin drinking as soon as their feet touch ground, some even before. Most of them were drunk by mid-morning and again by afternoon. The king had taken to mixing water in the wine, just to keep them useful for half the day. By the time everyone in the castle had finished breakfast, the entire goblin population was asleep, mounded throughout the land like some series of mole hills disrupting the landscape.

Turgomon was the first to notice as he made rounds after the morning meal. "They're dead to the world," he told the king.

Jareth stretched out a leg and kicked at a particularly chubby one of his goblins sending him tumbling down the hill. When he reached the bottom, he collided with the stone wall of the Labyrinth. Only snoring came from him at the jolt. "So I see. Perhaps, the servants forgot to water the wine this morning." As the two men and Sarah stared contemplatively at the snoozing goblins, Deverell came running up to them at full speed.

"Sire, in this morning's post," he gasped for breath as he held his knees.

"Yes," Jareth asked confused.

"A scroll your majesty, signed by the Cleric," Deverell stood tall and handed the scroll to Jareth.

The king unraveled the paper and read, to himself at first and then aloud to all those in attendance. "It says, Your majesty, there is a plan within the Triumvirate to eliminate the Underground and assimilate your kingdom back into the lands governed by us. I needn't tell you who is at the forefront of this administration, as I'm certain you are aware of the Gavel's contempt for you. Meet me in the meadow beyond the waterfall at noon and I will give you more details. You must come as I am undertaking a huge risk in corresponding with you. Very truly yours, the Cleric."

"Eliminate the Underground," Turgomon repeated. "That's absurd. The entire reason they've created the Underground is because they couldn't manage all this land on their own."

"Yes, well it seems I've caused them quite a stir as of late. Anything is possible. The Cleric has never betrayed me and I don't anticipate his starting to now. I'm going to meet him."

"Jareth," Sarah clutched at his arm. Why wouldn't the Cleric just come here, to the castle. He's done it before. Why not now?"

"You heard what the letter said. He was running a risk, just writing. The meadow beyond the falls is very near the foothills to the mountain range. It's probably as far as he can dare wander. I'll go by magic to the falls and ride from there. If the Triumvirate are watching, the last thing they need to do is sense my magic."

"I'm going with you," Sarah said staunchly.

"You are not. You're staying right here where you can be well looked after. I shan't be gone more than an hour. Everything will be fine."

"Sire, if you please, I must agree with milady," Turgomon said smoothly. "Were this to turn into a trap, whom would you send for help."

"Turgomon, enough. All of you. This is a scroll signed by the Cleric, sealed with the Triumvirate's crest." Jareth flipped over the paper to reveal the triangular brand which matched the one he and Sarah wore. "I'm going alone, it is not a trap and I'll hear no more about it. I'm leaving in fifteen minutes and shall return by supper." Jareth headed to the stables to gather Bagheera.

"Milady, you have the same dreadful feeling in your stomach I do no doubt." Sarah nodded. "Right then, let us go inside and see if I can't messenger the Cleric to confirm this meeting of theirs."

Sarah and Deverell followed Turgomon back to the castle.

As Jareth approached the stable. Gribbin met him at the gate. "Riding today your majesty?"

"So I am. Is Bagheera fit for travel?"

"A fine horse like he is fit for just about anything at just about any time. Let me place his bit your majesty and I'll bring him round."

Jareth nodded and Gribbin was off. The king waited a considerably long time for someone as impatient as he tended to be, then enter to find Gribbin leaning against the horse, asleep. "Can't stay sober one day these types," he grumbled as he set Gribbin on the ground and took the horse's reigns.

Deverell stopped off at the armory to get Dalkeil while Sarah called to Arulan to bring them beverages. The day was impossibly warm and their bodies had long since expended the juice they'd had with breakfast. Dalkeil arrived first and was immediately brought up to speed on everything with regard to the scroll.

"His majesty's words are law," he said. "He has gone, none of us have any right to question his decision."

"Dalkeil, he's only fey. Fey have been known to be wrong a time or two," Deverell pointed out.

Sarah sat on the edge of her seat at the large table in the library. "Turgomon, tell him you suspect something too. Tell him."

"I merely need to confirm the details Sarah."

"What about that dreadful feeling, the one in the pit of your stomach. You can ignore that now?"

"If it is proven to me that the scroll is legitimate, I've no worries."

Arulan entered with a tray of glasses, all filled with water, a slice of lemon turned over the brim of each one. "Here you are," she set the tray in the center of the table. Everyone reached for a glass and set it before them.

Sarah did her best to pull her hand back from the glass, but as her fingers refused to uncurl she knew it was an impossibility. She braced for the vision due to follow. Maeve's face was all she needed to see before she realized Jareth was in grave danger. A cauldron, a black cellar, a flower in a leather sac and Tiberon's cold smile. The glass went crashing to the floor, shattering and spilling it's contents. Arulan rushed to Sarah's side.

The mortal opened her eyes and saw Dalkeil about to drink from his glass. "No," she cried diving for him and knocking the water free of his grip. Another shattered glass. "It's been poisoned."

"Poisoned," Arulan repeated.

Sarah's head shook vehemently up and down. "Maeve and Tiberon concocted a sleeping potion. That would explain all of the goblins."

"Dear me," Arulan gasped.

"What is it?" Sarah asked before she noticed the elf's half empty glass. "Arulan, don't worry. You're going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine."

"How do you know?" She was frightened. She wanted to believe Sarah, but she could feel herself growing weary as they spoke and though she fought the urge to close her eyes she knew she would lose.

"All the same as you knew Jareth and I would be together, because I believe it. I won't allow anything to happen to you, I swear." She turned to Turgomon. "Now do you believe me?" He only looked sorrowfully at her. "Call for the healer, have him come immediately. Have him examine the water and discover what they've put into it, what, if any antidote is needed and tell him he'll need to make it up, in bulk."

"You can't just summon the healer," Dalkeil objected.

Sarah spun on him, a weakened Arulan in her arms, "Why not?"

"The healer is a servant of the king, he'll not come when you call."

Deverell offered, "I'm acting king when Jareth is away, I'll call for him."

"A moment ago none of you even believed me when I told you Jareth was in danger." Her head cocked to the side as she eyed Dalkeil especially hard. "Now you want to argue with me while black magic takes over everything in this kingdom? He is my king as well as he is yours. Nothing, no one will stop me from making absolutely certain that it doesn't happen. To hell with the rules and the hierarchy. I am his," she wanted to say Queen, for in her heart she was, but through gritted teeth she settled for, "seer. My word is law. Not even the almighty Triumvirate will argue me. Dalkeil, unless you somehow have managed to outrank the Triumvirate, I believe our discussion is ended." Looking down, Sarah watched Arulan's eyes begin to flutter. She held the woman close to her chest and smoothed her hair. "Just rest dear, rest and by the morning light you'll see the sun again, I vow."

"Yes, milady." As if it had been an order, Arulan closed her eyes and took her sleep.

With Deverell's help, Sarah lay the elf on a sofa. Focusing on Turgomon, Sarah began to toss commands as she stood tall at the head of the table her fists knuckle down on the cold marble. "Summon the healer. Dalkeil, survey the remainder of the castle to see if anyone besides us remains awake."

"I will not. I'm an armor guard not a house maid."

"You are what I say you are and you will do as I say you will. When you are through, empty the armory of as many weapons as you can carry. Deverell, go to the stables and ready the horses."

"But milady, will not the animals suffer the effects of the potion?"

Reading Jareth's impressive collection of books had provided a splendid education for the girl. Sarah began to explain. "I heard Maeve tell Tiberon the potion would not effect anything mortal. Since a horse is by conception a mortal creature, no breed here is not at least partly mortal. They're safe.

"Yes milady."

"I will use my magic to send word to the leaders of the western sectors as I'm certain Ranofyr will be of no help. We will all," she locked her stare with Dalkeil's eyes as she said it, "meet at the stables in twenty minutes."

"And then?" Deverell questioned.

Sarah looked at each of them. A determination she had never known began to fill her from the toes up, "And then we ride to the aid of the king. About your duties men."

"Aye milady," they said in unison, even Dalkeil.

As they all converged on the stables from slightly different angles Deverell looked at them in awe and with pride. Suddenly his purpose here had taken on a new meaning him. There was strength in Jareth's tiny army, perseverance and an unwavering willingness to serve the king, a respect small towns often overlooked. His part in it now gave him great emotion. Sarah had changed into riding breeches and a tight fitting shirt. Her hair was pinned behind her head in a bun. Dalkeil was laden with sacks of weapons, swords, maces, far more than the four of them could use, but he had been given an instruction and he was not about to disobey it.

"The healer has arrived milady. He believes it is a time released drug and cannot be treated by an antidote . In time it will wear off, but he is breaking down the components to be sure he hasn't overlooked anything," Deverell reported.

"No one remains awake, but we." Dalkeil threw the bags at Sarah's feet. "I brought enough armor and weaponry for five times our number."

Waving them closer Sarah instructed, "Choose your weapons and suit your armor."

Dalkeil approached her quietly. "The armor is all built to fit us men milady. If you ride with us, you do so with no protection."

"Correction, I ride with you three for protection."

"So you do," he smiled. "So you do."

Chataigne, Cymeron and Shindeagon were brought around to the front for them to mount. Deverell had chosen Shadowmere to ride. Once everyone was atop their horse, Sarah turned, "What are you waiting for?"

"I believe we're waiting for you to lead, milady," Turgomon offered.

Reigns snapped against Chataigne's shoulders as Sarah conveyed urgency with her digging heals, "Yay!"

The men echoed her sentiment. "Yah!" they cried.

Hooves battered at the earth as they rode into the northwest sector. Each animal gave everything they had as though they too understood the necessity of their mission. After all they had been trained as servants to the king. Sarah's eyes itched to cry, but she refused to give into the temptation. A change had taken place in her. Something deep and magnificent. Something stunning and certain that she had never felt before and she knew it was what she and Arulan had discussed, that special feeling of knowing Arulan had prayed for. Three men rode hard behind her and she needed to lead them. She needed to know that she could be a queen and once she knew, she would profess her love to Jareth. Just thinking of him reminded her there was a limit to the time they had. Looking into the sky, she saw the sun was nearly overhead, noon was rapidly approaching.

"There," Turgomon cried. Off to the right was the waterfall.

They stopped their horses for a quick drink. "It's not far now," Sarah told them. "If one among you wishes to end your journey here speak up." The men looked at each other. Worry evident on Deverell's face for he was the least experienced. Turgomon still wore the look of shame he had donned when he was proven wrong by Sarah's vision. Dalkeil was stern, ready, almost eager to continue. Not one among them moved away. "I'm glad. Come now, we've not got much time."

Jareth sat on Bagheera's back, trotting tight circles in the center of the meadow. The Cleric was no where to be seen and it was only minutes until noon. It was not like the Cleric to be late, quite the contrary, he had the same propensity for early arrivals the king did. Jareth thought of his great grandfather's sword strapped to Bagheera's side. The others sparked enough doubt in him that he decided to go prepared. There was a feeling of uneasiness about being here. Removing the scroll from his pocket, he looked at the signature once more. It certainly looked real, the fluid 'C' and the sharp angle on the arm of the 'r', all trademarks of the Cleric.

"A remarkable fake isn't it grandson. Your former wench excels at forgery."

Even had he not stated his association, which Jareth would have preferred he not do, the king recognized the tone of his voice, Darien. "And so you've pulled one over on me, how proud you must be. You know I can't drag you to the Triumvirate and so you've gotten me out here where you can play upon my sympathies and attempt to what exactly? Get me to recommend to the Triumvirate your punishment be minimal if at all, in the interest of not fanning the flames?" Jareth dismounted and positioned himself before the former king, nose to nose, eye to eye and toe to toe. "Well grandfather, I say fan the flames. Bellow them until they rise to the heavens like a beacon, until everyone in the realm can see you for the snake you are." Darien only smiled, a wicked smile. He didn't respond, not even a blink, not even the raise of his hand to wipe away the spit Jareth had flung as he shouted.

"Step away from my father," Tiberon called.

Jareth turned to see the three of them. Tiberon in the center, Maeve and the Shadow King off to the sides. Double taking the Shadow King, he noticed the change in his hair color immediately. The Shadow King must of noticed because he sarcastically chastised Jareth, "Green? Gads man, green makes us look so rotund. Really, haven't you a stylist? But of course not, look what you've done to our hair."

"They were right, this was a set up. What is it you want?"

"Just your kingdom nephew. After all, it is rightfully mine and being the _good and fair_ king that we know you are, I'm sure you want me to have it."

"And my freedom," Darien added. "You wouldn't want to see your grandfather imprisoned, or worse, would you?"

"I want you dead," the Shadow King said pointedly. "But since they won't let me kill you, spoil sports, I'm getting the southeast after Tiberon is king."

Maeve slunk against his side, "I just want you love."

"I'd sooner let him kill me," Jareth said indignantly.

"It can be arranged," Maeve shouted.

"I've heard your demands, I'm a reasonable king. We'll compromise. Tiberon you can have a lovely pen somewhere in my kingdom. Darien you shall be free to breath, but from the chains they shackle you in I doubt to do much else. I'll kill you," he told the Shadow King. "And things such as my choice of colors and hairstyle shall no longer plague you. And you my dear," he pinched Maeve's chin between his thumb and forefinger. "You may go on wanting me, if wanting a man who no longer wants you suits your tastes and when my goblins come to me with there wild requests, I'll give you the pleasure of delivering the 'how does it feel to want' speech."

"Amusing Jareth. It warms my heart to see you face your death with a smile." Darien drew his blade. "Much more suitable then my brother."

The king drew his weapon from Bagheera's side and swatted the horse's rump in order to shoo him from the battle, "If it's a fight you want," he vowed.

"'Tis a fight you shall have," Dalkeil called out as he crested the hill, smoothly dismounting and drawing a sword in one hand and a mace in the other." In seconds he was at Jareth's side, back to back they faced Darien and his men as Deverell and Turgomon dismounted. "Good day your majesty," he said to Jareth over his shoulder.

"Matter of opinion," the king replied. "Mind my asking how it is you knew to follow me?"

"Milady Sarah, my lord. She insisted we ride to you." Jareth looked at the crest of the hill beyond the meadow. Sarah remained atop Chataigne a look of worry on her face. "She's quite a woman, if you don't mind my saying."

"Good lord, why is she here?"

"Tying her to the castle door couldn't have kept her away."

From atop her horse Sarah could see for miles, but her eyes remained focused on the king. He held a sword as naturally as he held a child and appeared as handsome in doing so. She watched him fend off Tiberon who though more armored than the king, lacked his skill and grace. From the corner of her eye, she saw the Shadow King, though she didn't know who he was, she could see he bore an uncanny resemblance to her king. Only, as she had told Jareth at their second masquerade, he was no Goblin King, for she would know the Goblin King any where any time, by the rhythm of his breath, the wrinkles in his smile and the gait of his stride. The Shadow King strutted like a peacock, full of pride and indignation, he led with it, where as Jareth, commanded his, wore it like a tailored suit, and strode with his confidence first and foremost.

Deverell squared off against the Shadow King and Turgomon remained at the bottom of the hill between Sarah and the fighting, a close eye on Maeve. Jareth paired with Tiberon and Dalkeil with Darien. "Very well gentlemen, we each have a sparing partner. Let's get this over with quickly. I've promised my household I'd be home for dinner."

"Really," Tiberon asked trying to be coy. "What are you having?"

"Chicken," he replied.

Tiberon dashed at Jareth with the blade a bit too eagerly for the king was able to gingerly side step the blow. "Bad form on me. I should have worn you down before going in for the kill. But then bad form on you, bringing your whore into battle." He motioned to Sarah on the hilltop.

Knowing what he was up to, Jareth refused to allow his concentration to be broken by looking away. He only raised his eyebrow and curled his lip, "Turn about is fair play old friend, you've gone and brought yours."

Hearing his insult, Maeve charged the king. "You bastard," she cried as she jumped on to his back and pummeled him with tiny fists. Jareth did his best to shake her off while Tiberon merely laughed.

Leaving the safety of Chataigne to journey down the hill, Sarah found her self caught up in Turgomon's quick arms. "I won't allow it."

"You won't allow it." Sarah pleaded with her eyes, "Fine you go pull her off him."

"My code of honor does not permit me to put my hands on a woman," Sarah looked at his arms about her waist and then back to his face. Quickly he added, "in hostility."

"Fortunately, I don't have such a code when it comes to women, or men for that matter." Her foot came crashing down on the bridge of Turgomon's and while he was jumping in pain, she ran blindly into the meadow. Her hands filled with tufts of Maeve's hair and clothes. Pulling as hard as she could Sarah tore the woman from the king's shoulders and threw her to the ground like a rag.

Dalkeil and Darien were poetry in motion as they danced around one another. "Pity to kill you Darien, after all my father served you."

"Pity to kill you with the same tricks he taught me," Darien replied.

"Ah, but you must know he taught them to me as well," he swung his sword at the former king and it glanced off of his armor, but the temporary lapse in concentration had given Dalkeil a momentary upper hand. He continued to assault the king with a series of attacks hoping he would falter all together.

"You're his spitting image," Deverell said to the Shadow King as they raked their blades together.

The Shadow King laughed maniacally, the horrid sound echoing of the hills, "How sure can you be that I am not him?"

"I...I..." Deverell stammered.

"I...I..." the Shadow King mocked, and then laughed again, this time louder and harder. The young fey was obviously shaken by him.

Over his shoulder, Jareth watched as Sarah and Maeve rolled around on the ground in a struggle for control. "Sarah," he shouted, " I want you out of here, now."

"I'm not," she shoved Maeve aside, "leaving you."

"I'm not giving you an option to go or stay. I'm telling you go!"

Maeve came running at Sarah who caught her shoulders as she dove at her and flipped her head over heels. "No!"

"Fine, have it your way." Jareth whistled and Bagheera came charging from the woods toward Sarah. The horse would nudge her with his muzzle. Sarah would give way, but then stand firm. Bagheera would nudge again. Sarah gave a few steps more. Jareth continued to stave off Tiberon but he was hopelessly distracted by his mortal. His opponent noticed immediately.

"In the name of the Underground," Tiberon shouted before reaching into a hip pouch and withdrawing a small dagger. The blade flew from his hand with amazing speed and deadly accuracy, though to those who watched it seemed to spin handle over blade in slow motion.

"No," Jareth cried as the dagger sunk into the flesh of his devoted stallion. Low on his neck, the entire blade buried in muscle. The stallion made no sound because his windpipe had been punctured. He did not shudder. Instead with all the dignity the king had instilled in him, he bowed to his knees and fell on to his side. The massive weight of the animal pushed the handle of the blade into the wound. Blood poured from beneath him and pooled around his head. Sarah began to cry as she rubbed at his blaze offering her comfort.

"He'll be alright," she tried to reassure Jareth.

Maeve laid her hand on the animals neck, "It's dead you stupid bitch."

"The healer, Jareth, we'll call the healer." Guilt spread through her. If she'd have gone when he'd asked, this wouldn't be happening. How she wished she could reorder time to change things.

"It's fucking glue." At her vapid remark, Sarah charged, tackling her to the ground and assaulting her with closed fists.

"Does insensitivity come naturally to you or have you been working at it?"

"Only as long as you've been working at being jealous Sarah dear," Maeve said sweetly.

"Jealous?" the mortal questioned. "What have I to be jealous of? Certainly not you!"

"Come now," the fey beamed with confidence. "Surely it bothers you to know that Jareth loved me."

"Loved you? He never even liked you."

"I was his long before you'd ever seen this place, dear. I was with him on many nights, a good number of mornings and the occasional afternoon and trust me, he liked it." She circled the girl eyeing her as if she were a street urchin. "Pity we didn't make better friends you and I , I could have taught you plenty. Aboveground men would line up just to watch you twirl your hair."

"Men can find pleasure in a chaffing old pair of boxer shorts." Sarah stood tall beneath Maeve's judgmental stare, "You've never satisfied him."

"And you have?"

Smiling she leveled the fey with her reply. "No, I have taken him to the very edge of satisfaction. Giving him enough so he knows pleasure, but not so much that he's not still hungry for more." Sarah met the fey woman's eyes, "Looks as if the pity is yours. It would appear as if you've one more lesson you could learn."

"Turgomon," the king called.

His assistant stepped in to break up the fight and vainly attempted to drag Sarah away. "One dead," Tiberon called out the score as if it were the second service in a beach volleyball game. "Who's next?"

Furious at the loss of his prized stallion, Jareth attacked him with a new vigor, "Careful what you ask for," he warned.

Off to the side of the raging battle, Sarah sobbed in Turgomon's arms. "It's all my fault," she wailed. "If I had stayed away, gone when he asked."

"Don't do this to yourself. You must remain the strong confident woman who led us here. The king is weakened enough with worry for you. You mustn't give him more to consider. Every man, woman and creature in the service of the king, does so knowing they may be asked to die for him." It is with pride they give their lives for his.

"But Bagheera didn't die for him, he died because of me."

"And Jareth would have sacrificed his entire herd to keep you safe, now not another thought about it."

Deverell and the Shadow King continued their battle. "I'm growing very tired of you, boy," he told Deverell. Then with a pass of his hand, the Shadow King he disappeared. Of course, he was a part of Jareth, it only stands to reason he would have the same powers, perhaps not to the same degree or level of skill, but the same nonetheless. Deverell's sword went crashing to the ground.

Dalkeil and Darien were deeply engaged with one another. A strong arm slung the mace, knocking Darien's sword from his hand. Victory was to be short lived, for just as Dalkeil closed in on the former king, the wind above them whistled. Their attention followed the sound, "Turgomon," the king said, seconds before an arrow pierced his advisor's throat just above the chest plate he wore puncturing his jugular. "Jesus Christ," the king said as he turned on Tiberon wildly swinging his blade, the metal clashing in an attempt to drown out the sound of the arrow slicing the atmosphere, a sound that refused to leave his head. He managed to walk Tiberon backward until he stumbled and fell.

"Just a minute," Darien shouted. Jareth turned his head, a fool's mistake, but his concentration had been shattered by the deaths of his loyal horse and trusted assistant. Tiberon had the chance to scurry away, like the rat he was. "I'll strike you a bargain."

Having lost Tiberon, Jareth approached Darien, who weaponless seemed to be in no position to strike a deal with anyone. "Why should we bargain with you?"

The Representative in the meantime had made his way to Maeve. "I could have killed him," he reminded her. "I was in constant control while his concentration, on the other hand, was broken the moment the mortal laid hands on you. I held my end of the bargain, remember that." She smirked at him, her attention focused completely on Jareth.

"Oh, there are reasons, valid ones you should consider," Darien went on.

"Amuse me," Jareth taunted.

Darien smiled a confident and eerie smile, "There is the fact I am your grandfather."

"A tired excuse I've never held much reliance in."

"There is the fact I am far older than you and what glory is there in beating an old man?"

"When that man is you, there is more glory than I can put into words."

"What did you offer at the tree, when you went to collect the flower?" Maeve asked Tiberon.

"The only thing which is mine to give," he replied, "My blood."

"You offered a blood sacrifice to a witch's spirit with hate in your heart."

"So?"

"Nothing. You'll find out soon enough. A blood sacrifice shall mean death for someone of the bloodline Tiberon. You've given all you have to give and in return you shall get all that you deserve."

The Representative snarled in her ear, "Jareth is in my bloodline too darling, don't forget that."

Maeve watched carefully as Darien and Tiberon turned their heads so that at all times one or the other of them was constantly watching Sarah who knelt beside Turgomon's lifeless body, holding his head, his face strangely proud. It wouldn't have surprised her if the men took pleasure in watching the suffering going on all around them, but there was more to it and she knew that. The Shadow King was still unaccounted for. Their ideas became clear to her. Darien's bargaining chip, his valid reason for Jareth's consideration was Sarah's life. There was no love lost between Maeve and the mortal. Three days ago when they told her Sarah would die, she agreed with it, wanted her gone. It would give her back Jareth with no foolish mortal to come between them. But now, they weren't beating him. They weren't winning anything from him. Rather they exploited his one weakness to steal it from him. Who said there was no honor among thieves? As Darien continued his phony list of reasons Jareth should comply, Maeve ran forward and cried out, "Jareth, they'll kill Sarah!"

Tiberon came up fast behind her, his sword drawn. Jareth turned in time to watch the point of Tiberon's blade coming through her mid-section, creating a four inch gash from which her blood poured. Tiberon did not remove the sword from her gut. Maeve's limbs were obviously weak and the Representative's strength was most likely the only thing holding her up. Still she did not succumb to the wound as easily as Jareth expected, the shear fact she remained alive proved the blade was not fully or even partially iron. This fact caused Jareth to question Tiberon even more. Had he meant to kill him, or to torture him? He looked at his former lover with a mix of confusion and respect on his face.

Her lips curled as if she was trying to smile. A tear fell from her eye as blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. "I have never done good," she coughed blood onto the ground before her, "in all my life. Let me do some." Wincing she continued, "Some good in my death. They plan to kill her." Tiberon pulled a second dagger and held it to Maeve's throat.

"I've kept my end of the bargain," he reminded her.

His words seemed to not exist to her, the blade against her throat non-existent as well. "If you have ever trusted me, trust me now. Move her." Jareth's face twisted in disorientation. Maeve twisted her hand, the same motion the king often made when he was transporting, "Move herrrrrr!" She gurgled the command as the Representative drew the dagger across her throat. Jareth looked, the cut was so clean at first he didn't even see the break in her alabaster skin. The blood seeped out slowly as if it were no more than a paper cut, but as Tiberon began to jerk his sword from her body, Maeve's head tilted back, spreading her neck wide open. Strong stomach or not, the king had to turn away.

When he closed his eyes, he saw the motion Maeve had made with her hand and recalled her warning, 'Move her.' Jareth looked at Sarah, the familiar whirring reclaiming the air above him. A pass of his hand and the mortal who had been kneeling at the side of his assistant, was now beside him. She clung to him, terror stealing her breath. Where she had been they heard the thump and the reverberation of the arrow as it stuck in the ground. "What's happening?" she cried into his shoulder as he held her to him.

"No one else has to die Jareth. You send your men home, I'll send my men home and we'll fight for my freedom. If I lose, my death. If I win, your kingdom."

Temptation had never been so great. Free of Darien and all his mischief. "Agreed," he said slowly.

"No," Sarah begged him, "please don't do this. Leave it to the Triumvirate. They'll take care of him."

"And we see how far that has gotten us up until this point. His reign of terror has to end." The king kissed her. "Dalkeil, you and Deverell take Sarah back to the house while I..."

"Ah Jareth, I don't mean to be technical, but I said your men and my men. Unless milady has a surprise for you, she is not one of your men," Darien objected.

"No deal!" the king shouted.

Darien sneered at him, "Son find the Shadow King and leave, Jareth certainly understands what it means to stand on one's word."

"You haven't seen the last of me, Jareth," Tiberon warned him

The king glanced back at him, "I look forward to it." Deverell and Dalkeil stood ready to receive the king's command. "Take Turgomon back with you, notify his family."

"Yes your majesty," the men said with a bow.

"Stand back, love. I have one more thing to finish before we go home." He'd made it sound simple. Dust off his lapels, sleigh the dragon, mount the horse and they could ride off into the sunset. All in a day's work. But as Sarah backed away from the two men she couldn't rid herself of the ominous sense that death had not finished its visit in this meadow.

Darien retrieved his sword. Jareth assumed a stance and the two men began to battle, fiercely and fluidly. For each attack there was a counter. The clanking metal sang through the meadow and it appeared there would never be a victor. "You're growing tired grandson. Admit I've beaten you and I'll spare your life when I take your kingdom."

"Tired no, bored maybe. Admit I've beaten you and I'll suggest to the Triumvirate that death would be an inappropriate punishment for you."

"Afraid your luck continues to worsen, grandson." Darien made a quick move toward him, his left leg sweeping the king at the ankles as his blade locked with what had once been his grandfather's sword and lifting it from Jareth's hand. Jareth lie on his back, propped on his elbow, stunned and out of breath. He tried to stand. Darien stabbed his sword into ground and rearmed himself with the blade he slid through his own brother's body. "With your uncle it was different. I had never killed a man before. Fear forced me to do it quickly, but since then I've had time to imagine what it would be like. Get on your feet." Jareth rose. Darien continued to hold the tip of the sword inches from him. "I've thought about what it would feel like to have someone beg for their life, the total control, the utter sense of supremacy. Beg me to spare you Jareth. Tell me how your servants and subjects would be lost. Tell me all the reasons to let you live."

The king did not look at the blade. He did not look at Sarah. He kept his eyes hard on Darien. "Kill me if you need to so badly, live with two men's blood on your hands, but if you thought your daughter, my mother wrecked havoc on this realm in death, her torment will be a memory compared to what I will put you through."

The former king took a step back before unleashing a verbal tirade on Jareth. "Your mother. Let's talk about your mother. Ungrateful witch, she was. Took all I gave her and grew soft on it. Married that useless man and what good did it do her but to bring her end." He was a step away from where Jareth stood. He turned on his grandson, "At least I will have the pleasure of killing her biggest mistake." Lunging forward he aimed the sword at Jareth's heart and the king prepared to take the blow, his eyes wide, his posture perfect.

Sitting on the sideline no longer suited Sarah. So many thoughts crossed her mind in that split second. All the king had done for her, all that he had sacrificed when he petitioned the Triumvirate to go Aboveground. The exception he had made to love her. The gift of his soul. She stood and ran toward the men, placing her body between the sword and Jareth. In that instant she knew no fear. If death wanted her, let it take her. It would be better than facing life Aboveground without Jareth. Her eyes wide, she watched Darien, mad with hate. Drool in the corner of his mouth, spit flying as he cried out. Jareth grasped her shoulders ready to toss her aside, but it was too late. The blade pierced Sarah's left shoulder. Both the men wore a look of shock. Jareth supported Sarah's limp body. "What have you done?" he shouted at his grandfather. "Sarah? Sarah darling, speak to me."

"It burns," she said to him. "I can feel it spreading and it burns, Jareth."

"You're going to be fine, love, fine do you hear me? I've got help coming for you." It was a lie, but he wanted to reassure him. "We've been through worse than this you and we'll get through more together." Jareth laid her tenderly on the ground. He felt her pain and it had nothing to do with the fact his soul was inside her. Jareth stood and pulled Darien's sword from the ground. "I'm through playing games. Let's adjust our wager. You win and you can put that ungrateful son of your in my throne, but if I win, I put you in the ground." Jareth lunged. Despite the prior king's ability to thrive on evil, Darien hadn't meant to stab Sarah. Regardless of the fact that he wanted to kill the king, he expected someone else to off the mortal. The whole situation had shaken him a bit and allowed Jareth to quickly take the upper hand. A series of swift moves and the king was able to press his grandfather against a tree at the edge of the meadow. Jareth pressed the sword against Darien's throat.

"Kill me and get it over with," the coward requested. Jareth pulled back the sword and sunk it deep into the tree trunk beside Darien's head.

"Death is too easy an escape for you. You will go to the Triumvirate. You will confess to your murders of the past and the murders of your present, both the ones committed by your hand and the others at your instruction."

"Jareth," Sarah called to him from behind.

Reclaiming his sword from Darien, he turned his attention to the wounded mortal, as he slid it between his sash and breeches. The wound at her shoulder bleed through the tight top she wore and stained it, the deep red turned the yellow fabric orange. Life seemed to seep from her with every gush her pulse pushed forth from the wound. Bent over her, his ear close to her lips where Jareth could hear but the faint whisper of her request. Darien picked up a rock and charged Jareth. Sarah mumbled something Jareth couldn't hear.

"What, love?" He knelt on the ground beside her, pushing the sword hilt from his stomach.

"Behind you," she repeated. The king felt the weight of Darien as the upward pointed tip of the blade sunk into his grandfather's abdominal cavity, exposed from beneath his armor by his risen arms.

"Someday I knew," he said, "I would die by the same sword with which I killed. It's only fitting."

The Goblin King stood watching in the center of the meadow as Darien stepped back, pulling the sword free and spilling his blood over his hands.. Death surrounded him on all sides, Bagheera his steed. Turgomon, his ally. Darien, his grandfather. His mind counted the casualties, but his heart would never manage to associate a number with the loss. Knees quivered for the first time as fear for Sarah ravaged him. 'How would he live when she was gone?' he thought. Sending her home was a crushing blow, but seeing her die was a fatal one. Jareth let himself fall to the ground again, folding his arms around her.

Sarah looked up at him, tears in her eyes, "Can you please take me home now?" she whispered.

"Take you home, home, you want to go home," he laughed at how simple she made it sound. Yes love, we can go home." Scooping her up into his arms, Jareth climbed the hill to Chataigne. He couldn't help but think how easy it was to mount the gelding and reflect upon his own lost love, Bagheera. No horse currently owned or to be acquired would ever hold that stallion's place in his heart. He looked down at what had served as their battlefield. Maeve's body folded back at the knees, her head hung at an awkward angle. Darien folded in half at the waist the boulder he'd intended to crush Jareth's skull with still with in his reach, were he able to reach. He'd had many a sad day in his life, witnessed many a somber occasion, but this had been the saddest of them all. The throne was not worth the blood spilt this day. Even Darien's being brought to justice wasn't worth all this. 'Justice,' he scoffed. What justice would Darien know now? Truth be told, even if he had lived, the former king would never have met justice. In his mind, he had committed no crime and therefore any punishment would haven been just another unwarranted attack against him. He would never feel the pain he caused. Being dead, he wouldn't feel anything, ever again.

Half way home, Sarah fell unconscious. Jareth thought, he'd have to start training a new horse tomorrow, not to mention find a new assistant. He considered offering the position to Deverell, but had doubts the fey would accept. Being in the Underground didn't seem to make him very happy, but today he'd fought at the king's side and he had fought well.

Thoughts of Sarah dying snuck into his mind, but the king didn't let them stay long. She had to live, for all they had endured, she had to live, for all that waited ahead of them. There was no alternative to her living. The bleeding in the wound had stopped and begun to gel. Her breath had settled into a slow easy rhythm. What was normally porcelain skin had drained to bone white, even her ravenesque black hair seemed grey. When the horse was close enough to find his own way home. Jareth transported Sarah to his chamber.

Too many times she lie covered by the duvet, so weak she seemed swallowed up by it. But each time he managed to get her back, this time would be no different. Jareth rang for Arulan. No one came. He ran into her room. No one was there. In fact no one was on the second floor at all. He went to his office and found Deverell there.

"Your majesty?" he said surprised. He and the healer were both looking over Arulan.

"What's happened to her?" Jareth asked desperately.

The healer approached him, "They've been poisoned, something added to the water supply. It's a time released sleeping formula. The effects shouldn't last more than twenty-four hours, but it's managed to spread among the entire castle, except for..."

"Everyone at the battleground," Deverell summed up.

"And those effected, they'll be fine when the time limit is up?" the king asked.

"Indeed."

"Then your services are needed upstairs, in my chamber. I'm afraid Sarah's been stabbed."

"Stabbed?" Deverell asked.

The king took him aside as the healer led them back up to the second floor. "After you left, Darien and I were battling and he bested me, fair and square. Sarah threw herself between us and took the blade."

"Your majesty, I'm sorry."

"There's more, afterward, when I was tending to her, Darien charged from behind and impaled himself on the sword I had in my belt."

"Darien is dead?"

"Aye."

"Darien is dead."

"Say it fifteen more times, it won't change the fact. Tiberon isn't through with us, not by a long shot and when he finds out about his father, his vengeance will pale in comparison to what we witnessed today."

The king, the healer, Dalkeil and Deverell stood at the corner's of Sarah's bed and waited as the healer finished his examination. "Was there iron in the blade that stabbed her?"

"Yes," Jareth grimaced.

Sighing, he tore his eyes from the king, "Last time I stood here with you I thought how lucky a child whose life was saved because of the soul you gifted her, but now, I regret to inform you, that same gift might steal the life it saved."

"There's got to be a drawing potion you can use," the king suggested.

Dalkeil moved away from the bed embarrassed at how he had behaved with her the last time she was conscious.

"I've got something I can prepare which should pull the iron from her blood, but it all depends on how deep the iron has spread and I have no way of knowing that."

Deverell looked at the healer through squinted eyes, "So you're not even going to try?"

"Oh I'm going to try, but I want us all to be realistic about the expectations of this kind of treatment." He excused himself to the king's bath and began preparation of the poultice.

Looking at the king, Deverell said as positively as possible, "I'm sure she'll pull through."

"Thank you," he replied. "I see no point in no one running this kingdom, even while it's sleeping, why don't you go about my business. I think I'd like to stay with Sarah." Deverell bowed and left. "You too Dalkeil. Go and check on the goblins or the staff, see if anyone has awaken yet."

"Your majesty, I have a confession to make." Jareth looked at him with great interest. "Earlier today when milady took charge of our expedition, I was quite unkind to her." His look of interest changed to surprise.

"I have never known you to be unkind."

"Thank you sire, but I was truly unkind in my words and in my attitude. I'm heartfully sorry, but I've not the opportunity to apologize."

"Well, I assure you this is a forgiving woman and when she wakes up, you can offer an apology with absolutely no fear of it being rejected. Now, do as I asked you."

"Yes your majesty. Thank you your majesty."

The healer returned to the bedside and applied the poultice to Sarah's shoulder. "Change this every two hours. I've left more of the mixture in your washroom. Keep her hydrated and comfortable."

"How long will it take for her to get up and about?"

"I don't think you understand your majesty. Sarah may never get up and about. There's nothing more I can do for her and I can offer you no guarantees."

"Is there anything else I can do?" Jareth asked sullenly.

"Pray," he admitted. "And get as many other people to join you in that prescription as possible." Jareth's eyes couldn't focus, his lungs had forgotten how to breathe. There had to be more, more than time and patience and prayer. Wasn't loving her enough? Didn't it count for anything anymore. 'No,' Jareth thought, loving her is what put her in this position in the first place.'


	34. Chapter 33

**CHAPTER THIRTY THREE - SAYING GOODBYE**

Jareth sat beside the bed, too afraid to crawl in next to the unconscious mortal woman for fear he would fall asleep and miss one of the dressing changes which the healer had advised him to perform every two hours. Accepting Sarah may never recover from the stabbing was impossible for him. Such a wound was far from life threatening to a mortal, but just as she had never been, she was no ordinary mortal now. Holding Jareth's soul, set her apart, in addition to making her susceptible to the wound Darien had inflicted on her. This was all his fault, not just Sarah's condition, but the four deaths the meadow witnessed. They all may as well have been at the king's own hand. For centuries he talked a good game, threatening others with death to get them to do as he wanted. It was an effective enough method, he was intimidating enough to pull it off and in all that time no one had been bold enough to challenge him to prove he'd do it. Sure there were rumors of the mortals he'd 'killed', but they were all sent to Man Island. There was hunting and the occasional loathsome beast, as was the Pooka, but he had never killed another fey, certainly not a mortal, until now.

Sarah's chest rose and fell in erratic patterns occasionally making it seem as if she had been gasping for air. Beads of sweat gathered on her brow and cheeks. Jareth wiped down her face with a damp cloth when he came back from the bath with a new batch of poultice for her shoulder. She was still in the clothes she'd worn to the battle. Using his magic he covered her in something more comfortable, something light and white and made of cotton. With great care, he pulled her arm out of the short sleeve exposing her injury. Wetting down the old dressing, the king peeled it back from her skin. Beneath the clump of herbs and medicines her skin was purple, swollen and hot. The wound had begun to heal, scar tissue binding the open flesh together, but what remained was the worst evidence of iron poisoning he had seen in quite some while. Softly, Jareth swept her wound with the cloth, cleaning it before applying a new dressing. Then he took everything back into the bath where he could dispose of the used dressing and freshen the basin for the next treatment. He caught sight of himself in the mirror above the sink. "Eh gawd," he moaned at his appearance. "Would you look at this?" His hair was flat, his face hung. The king looked even more pale than usual and huge clouds had settled beneath his eyes. Longing for a bath to rid his skin of the feeling he'd just come from a battle, Jareth looked out at Sarah. 'No,' he thought. 'I might fall asleep in the tub, as I am prone to do and if I failed to administer the dressings...' His thoughts trailed off. There would be no forgetting, no sleeping, nothing. With or without benefit of a time suspension oubliette, time stood still within the walls of his chamber until his mortal woke. Removing his gloves Jareth filled his palms with cold water and splashed them over his face. A wave of his hand and he wore fresh breeches and a clean shirt, his hair restored, for now anyway, freshening up would have to suit him.

A knock upon the door distracted him. "What is it?" he growled as he pulled open the door.

"Jareth," the Cleric said his words filled with empathy. "That this was done in my name disturbs me greatly." As though the king hadn't snapped at him, he charged passed to Sarah's bedside.

"How did you find out?" Jareth asked.

"You have an excellent staff that cares greatly for you and for this woman," he told him. "Deverell sent me word. I came as soon as I could to offer you my prayers and to reassure you that Tiberon will not go unpunished."

"I don't care about Tiberon. His father is dead, it's punishment enough when you consider he was the last among us to care about the man." Jareth looked at his mortal in the bed, "I've had enough with punishment," he declared. "We bring our own ill will when we hold hate in our hearts."

"So we do." The Cleric sat on the edge of the bed between the girl and the king. "You've changed, you've grown and it pleases me to see you with your senses intact after all you've been through."

Jareth snorted. "Intact? I'm numb. I grieve for my losses one minute and riddle myself with guilt the next. Then in the third instant I'm ignorant to anything but her and whether or not she'll live."

"I see nothing wrong with the sequence you've described. Jareth, you've come to look at life from all perspectives, hence the ever rotating focus of your concerns."

The king grew solemn, "My focus remains the same. All my energy is Sarah's for the taking. I'd trade my life for hers if it was an option."

"I can see that."

"The healer told me to pray," Jareth looked at the Cleric for his reaction. "You know I haven't done that sort of thing for a long while, pray I mean. I don't think I know how. I don't know what to say. I'm angry at anything or anyone who would allow this to happen."

"So you should be. And so you should say precisely what you feel. There is no stone tablet with a recipe for praying our loved ones well again. Speak to the Supreme One from your heart as you would speak to me Jareth. Prayer is just talking to someone you can't see." He shrugged. "I'll be praying for her, as is the rest of your kingdom. Even the Gavel admitted to wishing her well. Focus your energy on her and the rest will take care of itself. From what I've been told you've got nothing to feel guilty for. Let yourself grieve, how else are you going to feel whole again? When Sarah comes back to you, she'll deserve all of you. Do it for her." The Cleric turned his attention to the woman in the bed, "You milady, you are a brave girl, standing up to the Triumvirate the way you have. Not to mention strong-arming the Gavel into having some compassion. This is too little a thing to keep you from being lively. Next time I see you Sarah, and there will be a next time, I expect you to be on the mend." His eyes closed but his lips continued to move as he left a blessing with the frail girl. A firm swat on Jareth's back and the Cleric readied himself to leave.

"I'll show you to the door," the king offered.

"I've seen it before," the Cleric chided. "Stay with your mortal."

As the door closed, Sarah began to fidget and was grumbling something. Jareth leaned over her, but as quickly as she had stirred, she settled again, completely ignorant as Jareth called to her from beside the bed. With a heavy sigh, the king fell into the chair he'd brought to the girl's bedside. 'It should be me,' he thought as he saw her looking so small and weak. His hand smoothed over the duvet before he realized he had left his gloves in the other room. Then he remembered what she had once said to him. 'I hate them,' he recalled her words, her proclamation of distaste for the seemingly permanent covering on his hands, as she wondered aloud if she would ever know the true touch of Jareth's hand. "I should have conceded to you when you asked, love. I should have always conceded to you." The king stretched out his hand and slowly lowered it to her palm as if he was cupping fire. His eyes closed as his lips parted and a slow hiss of air escaped. "I promise, when we're alone, I'll never wear them again." A tear escaped his eye. Gathering up her hand in his, he asked, "And what will you promise me." He waited a moment as if he expected her to reply and then as though he had generated her reply on her behalf he said, "Well of course you've got to promise me something. That's how it works. I make you a promise and in exchange for my generosity you make me a promise. Now, what shall it be?" His hands rubbed over her fingers. They'd grown cold, probably a result of the swelling constricting the arteries that carried blood to her hand. "This," he went on lifting her hand a little, noticing how small it looked between his own, "this is a big thing for me. You don't realize that, but when you wake up, I'll tell you all about it and then you'll see. But in the meantime, I need you to make me that promise."

Sleep suddenly seemed like a necessity to the king. Closing his eyes and not seeing her, not like this, just for a moment. Between his shut lids and the feel of her soft, cold hand it became obvious what he wanted from the girl. Pleading his voice began to fill the chamber as he sang of a lover's promise to return to her beloved. When the song had ended the king's face was soaked with tears. He lowered his lips to her knuckles and whispered a kiss over the back of her hand. "Promise me that."

Rage tore through him as if an iron blade had pierced his skin as well. Long strides carried him back to the washroom, only this time he shut the door behind him. Picking up his gloves, Jareth slid his hands inside and balled them into fists. "If you're trying to punish me," he roared, "it's working! I got those people killed and I have to live with their deaths, but if it were possible I'd tell you to switch my body with the one in that bed." Jareth took a few quick breaths before continuing, "You're going to take her from me anyway. You always were and I dealt with that, well I planned on dealing with it." His voice suddenly grew calmer. "I planned on letting her go back to her world. Somehow I thought I might even find a way to forgive you for it, but not if you take her from me like this. You're not making me suffer, you're making her suffer and it's not fair." His Adam's apple wiggled in his throat threw the tight skin when his head through back. "Do you hear me? Not fair, to make her pay when I'm the one who should be paying. I don't deserve her, but the rest of her world does. There's some child out there who doesn't have her for a mother yet and there's some idiot mortal man who will undoubtedly under appreciate her until a ripe old age, an age she was meant to reach and you know that because you're supposed to know everything. You know this isn't what her life had in store for her, that it's my fault she's in this mess in the first place. I'll suffer when she's back Aboveground. You can _find_ ways to torment me then. I won't object, but don't you take her, not when I'm the one you want." Jareth's back connected with the wall and he slid to the floor. His arms fold over his knees and he tucked his chin to his chest. "Not when I'm the one who wishes he could go."

Two hour increments continued to come and go as Jareth tended to Sarah's needs while talking to her in low, persuasive tones, hoping it would spark her will to return to him. By noon the next day, everyone who had been effected by the potions Tiberon and Maeve dumped into the castle's water supply had awaken. If there were any silver lining to be found, each of them felt incredibly well rested. The chamber door had remained closed very little once the visitors started to arrive. In the afternoon, the crowd had gotten so backed up, there was a line in the hall and as one left another took their place. Deverell stood beside the king. Jareth knew the exact moment because he had just looked at the clock to see if it was time for a dressing change. He snorted as he caught himself wishing he hadn't removed the 13th hour from his clock face. "Your majesty, I know you must be blaming yourself for what happened."

"There is no one else to blame." Jareth did not meet Deverell's eyes or he'd have seen the concern growing there. "I'd prefer not to discuss this now."

"You didn't fire that bow nor throw the dagger and you didn't cower behind Sarah as Darien approached you."

"How do you know?" His hands worked to replace the fresh poultice against her skin. "No one was there but for the three of us. How do you know I didn't throw her at him to spare myself?"

Deverell took Jareth by his shoulders and forced him to meet his eye. "Because," he said sternly, "the man who told me before I'd so much as dined with this girl that I must be prepared to die for her, would never do such a thing. Your were raised a royal and a gentleman and the code by which you live would not allow it. And besides," he removed his hands from Jareth's shoulders and glanced at Sarah, "your love for her would have made it more difficult than driving an iron blade straight into your own heart." Silence hung between them, silence and knowing. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"Were that I could." Jareth took away the soiled basin and the old poultice.

When he returned, he overheard Deverell's parting words to the girl. "...just as soon it been any one of us rather than you. But you're strong. You beat the king didn't you? That is no task for the mild of heart. Good day milady." The young fey bent over and pressed his lips softly to her forehead. His closed eyes did not see the wrinkles her skin made as her body tried desperately to interpret the sensation and Jareth was too closely watching Deverell to see for himself. "Your majesty," he said with a nod. "I'll be off, unless you require anything further of me."

"As a matter of fact Deverell, there is something I've been meaning to ask you. Come and sit." As Deverell made himself comfortable, Jareth went to the cart against the far wall and poured two glasses of brandy. He sat opposite the man who'd been sent to him by the Cleric and offered him the drink. "Deverell, I think you know when first you arrived here I was not keen on sharing responsibility for my kingdom with another fey. I didn't know you, didn't trust you and frankly, didn't think you could handle the job." The young fey looked into his glass. This was it, Jareth was about to ask him to leave. He had failed to keep an eye on the Shadow King and cost Jareth his assistant. The thought of what could have happened to Sarah made him tremble. "Since then, you've learned to fight, you've taken care of my goblins and you have showed great dignity in doing so. Losing Turgomon is a huge blow to me, on a personal level because I do not trust many and yet him I trusted completely. His being gone weighs heavy on me, not to mention it has created a vacant position in my staff."

"I apologize your majesty. You have to know I feel responsible for his death, were I to have kept better track of the Shadow King, he'd have not had the opportunity to..."

Jareth downed the rest of his brandy and then cut off Deverell's words before he could restate the outcome of the battle. "I'm asking you to stand in his place, permanently. Deverell, I would like you to be my assistant."

"Your majesty, I'm not worthy to fill Turgomon's shoes."

"That may be, but if you continue to improve yourself, I believe you have a great aptitude for growing into them."

Deverell nodded his head. "When I came to the Underground, I thought it a queer place. It made me more greatly appreciate Burggraaf and the family I'd left behind. After I was here a bit I could see how the goblins depended on you, how despite being greedy, uncoordinated little slobs, they still depend on you and you provide for them, even with all your complaints. And today, today on the battlefield, I watched you cast your personal regard aside. You fought for justice and equality. You didn't know we would come, you couldn't have. Even if we hadn't come, you were prepared to face them." Jareth moved to interrupt him, but Deverell would not allow it, "When we came, your face showed a great confidence, not in the thought that we as an army would beat Darien and his men, but confidence that we would not let you down and in exchange for that confidence we willingly stood beside you and protected the throne, at all costs. That is a feeling of pride Burggraaf has never given me." The king did not speak. His look focused on the bottom of his brandy glass. Deverell placed his glass on the table before him and stood. His right hand fell to Jareth's shoulder. "I did not know him well, but I know Turgomon felt that same pride I felt today and I know he died content with himself. Content that Sarah was safe and the throne would remain under your rule. Your offer moves me. For the Underground and in his name, it would give me great pleasure to serve you, my lord." Words escaped Jareth as he nodded. The young fey understood this was both an emotional topic for him and a confession of trust which did not come easy for him. Respecting the king's shortcomings in this area, Deverell left the chamber without waiting for a response.

More than a full day had passed before Arulan had finished the house chores and found herself with enough uninterrupted time she could pay Sarah and the king a proper visit. Slowly she slipped inside the room, a plate of hot food in one hand. "You haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday," she reminded Jareth. "I thought you might be hungry. Cook made your favorite tonight, rabbit, with some of those small round potatoes you like so much." Showing no interest in eating, Jareth only stared blankly at the elf. "Or perhaps you'd like to rest. You look as if you haven't slept in a week."

"I'm fine," he said in a removed sort of way.

His tone prompted Arulan to ask, "Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

A half smile lifted the left corner of Jareth's mouth. "I suppose I could use something to eat, maybe a bath." He reached for the plate Arulan held, carried it to Sarah's bedside and balanced it on his knee as he tried to eat. Although he had a fine chef in his employ, Jareth was definitely eating to live. Arulan could have brought him plain oatmeal and a handful of raisins, it would have tasted all the same. A few mechanical bites from the plate and he'd shoved it away in lieu of another dressing change on Sarah's shoulder.

"Why don't I do that," the elf said as she handed Jareth back his plate. Peeling back the duvet, Arulan examined Sarah's shoulder.

"You need to wet down the old dressing first."

"I know, I was just looking at, trying to get an idea of how much fresh poultice I would need."

Jareth sighed. "Just let me do it. It's second nature to me."

"Sit and eat. I'm quite capable of dressing a wound." Arulan shot him a hard stare on her way to the washroom. Under her breath she grumbled, "Tell me I don't know how to dress a wound." When she returned to the mortal's side Jareth watched her every move. "It really doesn't look so bad," Arulan evaluated as she removed the old mixture. Jareth peaked around her so he could get a look for himself. The skin was still purple, the swelling had seemed to subside some, but without any movement to make Sarah seem more lifelike it was hard to be hopeful. "I know she's going to come out of this," she told the king as she applied the fresh mixture.

"How can you be sure?" Jareth asked hoping she would say something factual, something medical he could trust in.

The elf smiled, "Because I believe it." The same words Sarah had comforted her with a little over a day earlier. Arulan took the basin into the bath. "They're having services for Turgomon in the morning." The king swung his head around at her casual attitude toward the topic, a look of innocence graced her face.

"So quickly?" Jareth asked trying to seem as casual and failing miserably.

Arulan came to his side, "His family has decided to set a pyre out to sea."

"They're taking him to the Northeast?" Jareth shouted.

"Jareth it was his childhood home, just because it isn't what it used to be."

"Dawn?"

"Of course." She paused uncertain of whether or not she should push the issue. "You should go."

"I can't. I've got to take care of Sarah."

"I can do that."

"Looking like this, you expect me to go to a funeral looking like this?"

The elf's small hands shoved him toward the bath. "No, but I do expect you to go get cleaned up. Then I expect you to get a few hours rest and attend your assistant's funeral Jareth. It would be terribly improper for you not go and pay respects, offer your condolences to his family."

"But what if she wakes up?" The look in his eyes was desperate as the king looked over Sarah. "I can't just not be here."

"I'll tell her where you are and I won't let her so much as step a toe out of bed until you're back." She ran water in his tub, "You've got to go, Jareth, no more excuses."

Just before dawn Arulan shook him awake. Jareth stretched over the edge of the couch where he'd slept. He was too afraid to sleep next to Sarah for fear that he might be restless and disturb her. Though he hated to admit it, the food, the bath, the rest had all done him well. Jareth was refreshed and alert which compensated for his extreme lack of serenity.

She looked at him. Regardless of the fact he was about to attend a funeral, she couldn't help seeing him all dressed in black, so formal and flawless, and thinking how she wished it was a wedding he was about to attend. "You better get a move on if you don't want to be late."

Checking his appearance in the mirror, he straightened his collar and pulled down his sleeves. Then turning around, Jareth leaned over Sarah's lifeless body. For a long moment he just stared, hoping she would wake up and keep him from leaving for this ritual. When he sensed Arulan about to chastise him again, he pressed his lips to hers and whispered in her ear, "I'll be back, love, before you even know I'm gone." Then with a turn of his wrist, he disappeared.

On the cliffs where he and Sarah had stood during their visit, the king joined Turgomon's family, his mother to Jareth's immediate left. His arm draped around her back as he offered his sympathies. Her face burrowed into his shoulder as the pyre was lit and Turgomon's body was sent to sea. In the background a choir sang. Jareth held to Turgomon's mother, as if by holding her he could bring back the assistant he had lost, allowing their tears to fall like rain. Dignity didn't matter. The king he was supposed to be had been forgotten and in his place there was left a man, his mortality suddenly brought to the surface though it hadn't been a part of him since he was several months old, it became real in that minute. As the pyre sailed on further and further from the on-looking mourners Jareth reached the painful realization that the Gavel had struggled with all these years. Just because someone was immortal, didn't mean they were invincible.

When they'd cried their eyes dry, Jareth gave Turgomon's mother the medal her son would have been awarded were he to have survived. She thanked him and kissed his cheek. "He was proud to serve you, your majesty and proud to die in your service I'm sure."

"You don't know?" he asked.

She shook her head, "They only told me he died in service to you, keeping you alive."

Jareth thought for a moment, weighing the truth against an old woman's conscious and the decision was simple. "It's true. I was face to face with Darien and just as the former king, my grandfather, was about to plunge his sword into my chest Turgomon jumped in front of me."

"But my boy had a neck wound," she reminded him.

"So he did, but that's because as he spurted off to Darien, one of grandfather's men shot at him from the bushes. No one saw it coming and they struck him. His death was immediate and I'm sure he felt little if any pain."

"I pray you're right."

"Tell me what I can do for you," he instructed sincerely.

Turgomon's mother's eyes filled with water, "You could give me back my son, but that's incredibly unfair of me to ask. Instead, just promise me, you'll see that Darien is brought to justice for his crimes."

"No one's told you about him either." She shook her head once more, "Darien is dead, ma'am. The Supreme One will bring his justice to him now."

"Well if what they say is true, than he has already heard my suggestion. Thank you for coming your majesty."

"Please. I have known you since I was a child, call me Jareth."

"But your majesty..." she realized what he was saying and complied immediately with his wishes, "Of course, Jareth. As I said, thank you for coming." The king bowed to the woman and when she turned away to tend to some distant relative, Jareth motioned his hand and transported himself home.

Facing reality as it existed outside the chamber where Sarah lie had made him hungry. His wild mane dove into the ice chest in search of the remains from dinner or even this morning's meal. Arulan came in behind him, her shoulders heaving, a tight squeal coming from her throat. "What is it?" She pointed upstairs, the squeal turning into a wheeze, water welling in her eyes. "Sarah?" he asked. Unable to speak, Arulan nodded and like a shot, Jareth ran to his mortal, taking the stairs two at a time. He flung open the door, expecting to see her dead in the bed they had shared. Instead, she sat up in the bed, her arm now fed through the sleeve, a bandage around her shoulder where he had removed and replace poultice for almost two days. "You're alive?" Jareth asked, perhaps too quickly.

"You sound upset," Sarah replied.

"No," he reassured her, rushing to the mortal's side. "It's just when I saw Arulan, she was crying and I thought..."

"Not crying, laughing. The healer was here to look me over and he told us the best joke."

"A joke," Jareth repeated.

"Yes about a pixie who has too much mead and when she's lying on the toadstool..."

It was a joke he'd heard, "And she says, 'What do you mean? I thought I _was_ flying.'"

"That's the one, that's it." Sarah was so alive compared to the way he'd left her and no one had told him, no one had sent for him. She had back the creamy color of her skin, the light in her eyes. She was positively vibrant and tickled pink at the silly joke the healer had told her.

Jareth grabbed her hard and pulled her close. Her arms wrapped around him. Fast and furious his hands slid over her in some fantastic attempt to prove she was real. "Do you know how close I came to losing you? Do you have any idea what you've put everyone through these last couple of days?" His voice was low and angry. "We've been worried sick! What on earth, or in the Underground for that matter, were you thinking, throwing yourself in front of a partially iron sword?"

"I was thinking I couldn't let you die." Although Sarah had begun to doubt it was such a good decision.

"Why?" he asked as his hands clasped her upper arms, shaking her head lulling side to side. "Why would you take a chance at losing your own life to preserve mine? The damned thing wouldn't have killed me, but it could have killed you. Why would you want to die?"

Sarah's eyes filled with tears, did he not want her to show her devotion? Was it bringing up questions? "Because," she said weakly.

"Because!" he raged. "Because! What caliber of answer is that? Because!"

"I'm sorry. I don't know what you want me to say. I thought you'd be happy I was well again."

"I am. I just don't understand."

"What's to understand?" she cried, tears staining her cheeks. "I didn't want you to die and for that minute it wasn't worth living if you weren't here."

Jareth's voice lowered and he held her close to his chest, his pale skin cool against her hot, wet cheek. "But they're sending you home soon Sarah, as soon as Darien is buried, they'll send you home. What will my world, or my life matter when you're torn from it? Why risk your life for a man you won't even know by week's end."

"Darien's dead?" she asked at the king's mention of a burial.

Jareth sighed, "Yes, but I'm not worried about him, I'm worried about you.?"

Closing her eyelids tight, Sarah forced out the tears from beneath her lids. Jareth felt her jaw roll as she swallowed hard, "Because," she choked.

Softly his hand slid over her silky hair, "Because " he waited for a more accurate reply.

Pulling back from him, she looked into his eyes. The battle came to the foreground of her mind. She saw Darien's sword inches from his heart, the steely determination in Jareth's eyes. Sarah knew he was ready to die and she knew why. With her about to be sent home, he had no reason to live. "Because I love you," she said sincerely. The king did not move, not the bat of an eyelash, not the sharp inhale of a breath. Her hands rose to his face, "I've waited so long, wanted to be sure. I didn't know what true love was when I came here and it seemed like such a big deal to you, I didn't want to not be sure." Tears began to flow again. "When I thought about Darien stabbing you, when I thought I would have to watch you die, when it occurred to me that life without you was no life, I knew. And I knew that I would rather die proving my love for you than live the rest of my life denying it."

For the first time in centuries, the king sat speechless. There were no words for what was in his heart. "Jare " Sarah started to call his name, but was cut short by his kiss. His arms folded around her so tightly, she thought he'd must have encircled her twice. His hands were in her hair and running along the length of her back. The kiss they shared was deep and rough and needy. After the initial shock of Jareth's actions, Sarah began to return his kiss with equal enthusiasm. She loved him and she had told him so. In fact, she felt as if she wanted to climb to the top of the highest mountain and shout it for the realm to hear. Carried away by the moment Jareth undid the tie at the neck of her gown and slid the shoulders down trailing kisses along her porcelain skin as he went. Sarah too, enamored with his passion rose her arms to remove his jacket and was given a particularly painful reminder of the wound on her shoulder.

"Now, now my young lovers," the healer said as he approached the bed from the washroom where he'd only half watched their exchange, but made it a point to hear everything. "I'm afraid the lady needs a bit more rest before you two shall I say consummate your feelings for one another." He handed Sarah two pills and a glass of water. "I'm leaving two more of those for her to take with her evening meal. If all goes well, as it has up until now, she should be fine by morning, but she needs rest." He eyed the king. "Milady, as always it is a pleasure to see you looking so remarkable." The healer kissed her hand and excused himself.

"Thank you," Sarah called when he reached the door.

"No thanks necessary," he replied.

Alone in the room, Jareth found himself unable to tear his eyes from her. Sarah wiped the tears from her face exposing her blushed cheeks, blushed by embarrassment for the healer having seen their kiss and blushed by the heat Jareth had stirred within her. "Are you going to talk to me or are you going to just sit there and look at me?" Sarah asked growing uneasy in the midst of his uncharacteristic silence.

"I'm going to sit here and look at you," he admitted. "Until I have memorized exactly how you looked the first time I heard you say you loved me."

"Don't do that. I'm a mess," she smiled for in her heart she knew no matter how ragged she would ever appear, she had found total acceptance in his eyes. "Wait until I'm well and memorize me when I tell you then."

"I don't want to wait that long for you to tell me again."

"But the healer said I'd be better by morning."

Jareth slid in to bed on her right side. His left arm slid behind her and supported her weight. Deeply, he looked into her eyes and with a truth he'd never shown to anyone he said, "I don't want to wait that long."

Sarah lifted her chin, tilting back her head as her eyes fluttered from his passionate stare to his lips. "I love you," she told him before pressing her lips to his. "I truly do."

"And I have always loved you," he reminded her as her head lowered to his chest. The steady rhythm of his heart, safe and still beating within his chest lulled her back to sleep and the king joined her. It was a better sleep than he had ever recalled having.

Arulan brought their evening meal to Sarah's chamber and found them snuggled together in the bed. A demur cough from the elf was enough to stir Jareth, "Arulan, is it so late already?"

"'Fraid so your majesty. I don't mean to disturb the two of you, but the healer said Miss Sarah ought to have another set of pills with her evening meal."

"Indeed," his hand softly rested on Sarah's hip as he rolled her to and fro just an inch or so to stir her awake.

"Jareth," she called out still groggy, moaning as she tried to stretch and still felt the pain in her arm. Arulan smiled at the way the king's name sounded so natural on her lips, pleased she would awaken and immediately call for him.

"Dinner is here, love, you've got to eat."

Arulan set a tray over her lap and removed the cover from the dish, "All soft foods I'm afraid." Sarah looked at the lump of mashed potatoes and another lump of something green and some ambiguous pile of something brown. In a small cup outside the dome was applesauce. "I know it doesn't look very good, but it's what the healer ordered for you, miss, just until you've had the last of your medication."

"Well, I suppose that gives me something to look forward to." She was blissfully happy and who could blame her. It was as if her long sleep had caused her to forget all that had happened at the battlefield and only the recollection of declaring her love was fresh in her mind.

"I'll eat downstairs so as not to disturb you with my chewing, unless of course, we're all dining frappe in honor of Sarah."

"No sire, there's a more solid rendition set aside for you," Arulan confirmed.

Sarah's hand stilled Jareth as he attempted to leave the bed. "You'll do no such thing. Arulan, bring the king his meal here, if you please."

"Right away, miss," the elf smiled but didn't move.

"Well, you heard the lady Arulan, bring me my evening meal, here, with my mortal." His high heeled boots kicked into the air as he settled back with her.

"Right away your majesty."

Midway through their meal, Jareth mentioned Deverell's having accepted his offer of assistant to him and Sarah asked, "Turgomon?"

"Sarah, you needn't address this until you're well."

"Has he been did his family was there " she stumbled with words as she tried to think what an immortal community would do to honor their dead.

Jareth smoothed over her hand, "There was a service this morning at the cliffs. I spoke with his mother and though it was somewhat of a half truth, I believe I gave her some peace to end the tragedy."

"I wish I could have been there. He died protecting me." Her eyes began to moisten.

"It was probably better you weren't there. Much of the family Turgomon came from still has great hostility for mortals."

Thoughts wandered as it suddenly occurred to her Jareth had mentioned something about services for Darien. "What will happen with your grandfather?"

"Being a former king," Jareth explained, "he'll be displayed for the community to pay it's respect. Although I doubt it is a process which would take more than fifteen minutes, the body will remain three days time. The day after tomorrow, he'll be rested as the family determines fit."

"Are you going to attend?"

"I have a duty to, but I have an overwhelming guilt which makes me not want to."

"I'll go with you if you'd like."

Jareth smiled at her. He knew she would never fail to amaze him with her compassion. "I'd like you with me always, Sarah, but are you sure you're up for it? I don't know how the rest of Darien's family will react, but Tiberon will not take kindly to my attendance and I'm sure less kindly to yours."

"My place is by your side." Her statement was pointed and determined.

"And so the space at my side can only be filled by you." Jareth moved away their trays and went to get Sarah's medication from the bath. Handing her the pills he remarked, "Down the hatch. We want you feeling your old self by morning."

With a look of feigned dismay Sarah glumly replied, "I was rather hoping you'd be feeling my old self by morning."

"Were it that my hands could wait that long," he admitted as he slid in beside her clasping his arms around her mid-section and burying his head into her neck where his lips massaged her flesh.

Jareth felt the muscles of her neck undulate as she swallowed down the two rather large pills. Relief washed over him as he knew finally, she would be alright. An instant later he heard her question, "What did you mean when you said the blade wouldn't have killed you?" and his perfect moment shattered.

"When did I say that?" he attempted to skirt her inquiry.

"When we were yelling back and forth about why I jumped between the two of you. You said something about a partial iron blade not killing you. I thought iron meant an almost instant death for fey."

What seemed like long ago, when Sarah had first returned Underground Jareth had little interest in sharing of himself with her, then as their time progressed and his feeling deepened, he was hesitant, knowing she would be taken from him. There was much he had not told her about himself, about what he was. This question only one among the many she would undoubtedly have once he began to tell her the truth. Jareth felt her eyes on him, two eager green pools wanting nothing more than to know the man they looked upon. The king was still fairly uncertain about what would happen with the Triumvirate when they stood before them for the third time, but when he looked at her, when his mind replayed the music of her professed love in his ears he could deny her nothing. Besides, he was tired of not giving himself to her completely, not only as he had held back at the beginning of their romance, but holding back of himself and his emotion. He wanted her to own all of him from his body to all the secrets of his heart. "You sweet, sweet child," he said caressing her cheek. Her blood boiled when he called her child, but with as much tenderness as was in his eyes when the word fell from his lips, Sarah refused to bawk. "There is much you've yet to learn about me. Perhaps tonight is not the time."

"Tonight is the time. Now is the time. I can't do what it is I want to do with you," she admitted. 'How else shall we pass the time?' she wondered as her hands roamed his chest, undoing the buttons of his shirt and pulling the garment from his waistband. Dipping her head, she kissed his stomach several times before his palm guided her head back to eye level.

Pinching her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he feigned submission, "I'll talk, I'll talk!" he cried. "You can be so cruel." His lips grazed hers before he began his tale. "I've told you about my mother and her frequent visits to your world, but what I've yet to mention is this. Mother met a mortal man Aboveground, one whom she loved very much, a noble man who accepted her for what she was. They were wed and returned Underground. By the time they returned it was too late for the Triumvirate to object to the marriage. The Leanan Sidhe had given Ian, my father, her soul and in doing so heightened his senses. Fey have heightened senses of all sorts, not just hearing, but for my father it was worse because he was used to human caliber senses. Suddenly colors were more vivid, sounds came from places where he saw no one." Jareth paused a long moment. "Still father was earnestly more concerned with giving himself to my mother and not at all concerned with his needs, so he remained Underground. Eventually the heightened senses grew to be too much for him and he went mad, just before he died. Although I was yet to be born when father died, I rather think the madness had nothing to do with his death. I think he'd just given so much of himself that he had nothing left."

"You're half mortal?" she asked even though he'd as good as said it.

"I am," he confessed. "Shortly after my birth I was christened fey so as to spare me from perishing in the magical atmosphere, but there is mortal blood in me and because of it I have a much higher tolerance to iron than other fey. This is why I said I likely could have taken Darien's blow and suffered no more because of it than you did."

"That's why the water had no effect on you," she looked confused. "Why wouldn't you tell me you were mortal?" she asked.

Taking a deep breath for courage, Jareth went on, "I was afraid. You see Sarah, there's been rumor since your first visit I had acquired mother's tastes for mortals. There were those who questioned my ability to be king when I would only continue to thin the bloodline with my mortal, and don't take this personally, whores." How the hell could she not take that personally? "Back then I thought it best if I forgot you and moved on, but we both know to forget you has been as impossible as touching the sun. When you came back, I was still attempting to keep myself from loving you. Gladly I failed. Then there was the question of your being taken away. I didn't want to complicate things for you by telling you these things."

"And now?"

"And now, I'm weary of keeping secrets from you. You've given yourself to me and in return I owe you all that I am."

Sarah stared up into his eyes, the left one clouding up again as it seemed always to do when she stared too long. This time she did not look away. Instead, she waited for the clouds to clear and saw her standing with Jareth in an elegant gown in front of the castle. Jareth notice her hypnotic state, but said nothing and did not look away. "How do you do that?" she asked at last.

"Every fey has a deformity of some sort Sarah. Mine is this, one eye, my right eye is mortal. It dilates and constricts as do your eyes. It allows me to see fine, but does nothing particularly special otherwise. The other eye, the one you're peering into now is fey. Fey eyes have the capacity to reveal great wisdom, hilarity or sorrow. They can show a compassion far beyond mortal understanding, but mostly they reflect the soul of the person looking into them." He took her hand in his, "You see, my crystals are an extension of my being, just as you might turn them a certain way to see your dreams, this eye," he motioned by jerking his head to the left, "will reveal your soul's desire. What is it you see?"

"What I have always seen when I look at you," she answered ambiguously before adding, "my destiny," for clarification.

"Your destiny, then. What makes you say that?"

"Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered," Jareth's stomach quivered at her words, "we've fought our way back to one another." The king released the air trapped in his lungs. "Doesn't that say anything? That even realms apart we would find one another again someday when the timing was more perfect."

"Volumes love, it says volumes." As did the mighty yawn which forced Sarah's jaws wide. "And now I think you'd better rest."

"I don't want to rest," she disputed. "I want to keep talking. I want to figure out a way to stay with you, forever."

If it were possible for a heart to burst with happiness, Jareth's was on the verge. "Lovely as that sounds, 'tis a decision only the Triumvirate can make. Let's not concern ourselves with what we cannot control. Now to sleep with you, otherwise when morning comes you might not feel well enough to what was it the healer said consummate our feelings for one another."

"I don't want to wait that long," Sarah taunted him with his own words.

Jareth smiled, "Want is not lacking in this room love." Her palm still in his, he slyly lowered her hand over the bulge in his breeches, "But I must do what is best for the woman I love, even if it is hard."

"Oh, it's hard," she chuckled. "Trust me."

"With my life," he said as he used his magic to sink them beneath the duvet.

Morning seemed to come in the blink of an eye, but neither Sarah nor Jareth stirred from the bed. Jareth woke a time or two and stared down at the sleeping woman in his arms. He wanted to rouse her and have her tell him again she loved him, but he also wanted Sarah to be fully rested and so he left her sleep. Even when Arulan came in and requested the king's attention. He drew a finger to his lips to quiet her. "In the hallway, please," he whispered as he carefully slid from beneath the drowsy mortal and came to meet his servant. "What is it?" he asked in a more natural speaking voice.

"Your majesty, I'm very sorry to disturb you, but sire, the engraver is here and he insists you approve of his work before he leaves."

Jareth hung his head. The engraver Arulan spoke of had come to make the plaque which would attach to the base of the urn designed to hold Bagheera's ashes. Once full, the urn would be brought to the king's office, and placed on a ledge round the top of the room which set just below the molding and held urns filled with the ashes of other horses killed in battle. "I see," Jareth took a deep breath. "Let's not waste the entire day on this. Where may I find the engraver?"

"He's in your office sire," Arulan curtsied and started away.

Heavy footfalls carried him on to the office door. It felt a bit odd entering a room in his home designed for him all the while, knowing someone else would be waiting on other side. Slowly he opened the door to see the engraver sitting in one of the leather wingbacks, waiting patiently with his legs crossed. "Your majesty," he stood to address the king and bowed to him in respect. Jareth acknowledged his sentiment and then joined him in the sitting area. "I hope you will be pleased." From the table the engraver lifted a velvet pouch and from it's depths withdrew a rectangular gold plaque. With his sleeve, he polished the face before asking, "It is a fitting epitaph, is it not?"

Bagheera the Brave

First Stallion to Jareth, King of the Goblins

Among the servants to the king and a king among stallions

Deceased in battle

Jareth looked over the finally chiseled words. 'How is it that an entire life could so easily be condensed into only a few lines, even if they were poetic,' he thought. Suddenly every principle he'd been taught about words being powerful and important was brought into question. Nothing was on the plaque that spoke of his horse's honor, of the brave way he faced his death as he had faced every day of his life. Nothing of the foes he had defeated, or the enemies he'd outdone, just the immortalization of the one who'd brought him down. No chronicle of his deeds, both great and small, simplistic and harrowing, done without objection or delay. No registry of his contributions, to the king and to the kingdom, of which he had been as much a part as any of the upright beasts who lived there. "It's a fine plaque," the king concurred. "I'll have Arulan take you to my assistant," Jareth was suddenly reminded that it would not be Turgomon, "who will see you're paid your wage." Jareth tugged the braided cord to summon the elf. His thoughts spreading elsewhere as he did. 'Would Turgomon's life be so casually summarized?' A life which had a great meaning, no only to Jareth, but to so many.

Led away by Jareth's servant, the engraver went to collect his coppers leaving Jareth behind with the plaque. "Among the servants to the king," he read aloud. "And a king among stallions," he lowered his head. "A king you were. Goodbye dear friend. There shall never be another who will fill even half your shoes." As he rose to leave, Arulan returned just outside the door.

"Your grace, I know you weren't expecting this today, but it would seem as if miss Arianna has decided not to continue with the display of her husband's body." Arulan began to weep. "I'm sorry, sire."

"It is what it is," he said plainly.

The elf came to his side and fought the urge to take the king, whose grief reduced him to an overgrown boy, into her arms and mother him as she had when he was an infant. "The services are to be held at one o'clock your majesty, one o'clock today."

"Today?" he asked. "Today. Today it is then. The burial grounds, I assume. Just because a fey doesn't live up to his title doesn't mean they take it from him."

"Yes, your majesty. The royal burial grounds. Chataigne and Cymeron have been hitched to the coach for the trip. Will the lady Sarah be joining you?"

A tiny smile curled his lips, "On such a day as this, it seems wrong to feel as happy as I do inside."

"Happy sire, you look anything but happy."

"Do not let my looks deceive you dear woman. As much as I am overcome with the losses this kingdom has felt, a part of me which has grieved for so long, grew alive last night and at the most inappropriate times I find myself wearing this boyish grin as my feet prepare to skim the floor in flights of fancy I've not often flown."

An inappropriate smile of her own spread over Arulan's lips as she asked, "Is there something you need to tell me?"

"Something, I need to tell you everything." His hand clasped her waist as he swung her around himself, her bright eyes shining down on him. "Arulan, you were right, right to force me to tell her how I felt, right to force me to believe." Her toes touched down and Jareth pulled her to him, his chin resting on her head. "Sarah has decided to tell me she loves me, loves me truly."

Tears fell freely from her eyes as she pulled herself away to look up at him. Arulan thought about saying something sincere, some weighted comment to add permanence to the moment, but decide there was enough, if not too much sincerity in the air today. "It took you hearing it when the rest of us knew all this time, you stubborn, arrogant, fool."

"Is that anyway to talk to your son?" Jareth asked.

Sobs shook her whole body as she collapsed against him and in that moment, Arulan understood what a difference hearing the words made.

As had become tradition with the appointment of the first king, a royal burial grounds lie between the foothills of the mountains and the meadow where the battle had taken place. The Underground's first king would lay his two sons to rest together for all eternity in the cold earth, together with a stone that paid tribute to the Leanan Sidhe. The former queen's epitaph included a mention of her mortal husband, although it refused to announce his heritage in stone. When it had been first decided to disallow Ian's body to be buried in the royal burial grounds, despite the fact that he was king, it had been in hopes that by doing so, they would make it easier for history to forget a mortal had sat upon the throne. But as it had always been, omission was just another admission of guilt.

Jareth and Sarah, both tastefully dressed in formal black attire, rode in the coach toward the gathering. Respectfully, her arm fed through the king's as they crossed the meadow. Arianna greeted the king as he stepped out of the coach. Jareth offered his condolences despite the former queen's not seeming terrible distraught. Turning to help Sarah from the coach, Jareth saw a great number of the fey looking on at the mortal. Hurriedly he took them to their place in the crowd. From the foothills a bagpiper let out a low note and within seconds a team of players joined in and as the couple looked on, their senses absorbed the sound of Amazing Grace as it rode over the wind. Darien's body, housed inside a simple casket, was brought in on an open coach and left at a stone alter.

Arianna stood behind her husband, "As was Darien's wish, there will be no eulogy given in his name, instead we shall proceed to his site and end the rite as quickly as possible. I would like to thank those of you who came to attend today's ceremony."

"That's it?" Tiberon cried from the crowd. "That's how you intend to bury my father." Throughout the small crowd tiny gasps passed from the lesser in the know. It suited the representative to make a scene. Jareth did his best to ignore him as he detailed how it was he had come to be thought of as Gumlain's son when in reality he had been the one who should have held the throne instead of Leanan Sidhe, and "would hold it still today." he finished his elaborate speech with his eyes focused on Jareth and Sarah intently.

In a display of unprecedented patience, unprecedented for Jareth at least, the Goblin King kept his eyes on the casket. Mercifully, Arianna cued the pipers to play and the crowd filed into their coaches and formed a processional to Darien's site, to the right hand of the site reserved for Oberon. As he had when it was Corwyn's time, Oberon stood beside the Cleric, who delivered as moving a prayer as he could, given he still harbored a deep resentment for their unwittingly involving him in their scheme. When the Cleric finished and Darien's body was set into the ground, Oberon tossed on a handful of dirt. The others in attendance were invited to do the same. As soon as Jareth and Sarah had participated in the ritual, they loaded into the coach and headed back to the castle, thankful no one had decided to initiate any melodrama that would cheapen the loss of life.

Immediately when the king returned home, Sarah noticed his change in demeanor. Sat on the edge of the bed, looking as grim as she had ever seen him, Jareth refused to meet her stare. Wrapping her long fingers around his shoulders, Sarah began to massage him. Only then did she realize the true depth of his tension. It was impossible to determine one knot from the next as it was more of a continuous rigidity across the king's full width. His gloves covered her hands, stilling their attempt to bring him some relief. He didn't want relief, didn't feel as if he deserved it. What was a neck ache compared to the pain he'd caused Turgomon's family, the sacrifice he'd asked of Bagheera, and the fury he'd ignited in Tiberon. "What is it I have done in this worthless life of mine to deserve you?" he asked her.

"Worthless?" Sarah slid her arms down his chest until she was able to rest her cheek upon his shoulder. "Worthless is not a word I would you to describe you."

"If you knew my heart, you'd see the blackness in it."

Sarah's legs encircled the waist of the king as she set her bottom squarely into his lap. "I know your heart," her palm slipped inside his open shirt and spread over a spot on the left side of his chest. "This is a heart that continued to love a stubborn little girl who was too young to understand your world. This is a heart that sung an insolent child to sleep, who rocked him and fed him while in your keeping. A heart that forgave a mortal for ruining his realm, one which was able to hold on to love when it was unrequited and hidden beneath fear. This is a heart that has saved ten times the lives it has taken. It has beat in compassion, bleed in sorrow and shattered in pain. It is the heart of a king."

Abruptly he stopped Sarah's hands from roaming over him, "It is the heart of a monster. I have taken a life Sarah. Not slain a dragon, or some beast. Not saved a maiden or some full hearty child who doesn't know the dangers of the Labyrinth. I have taken a life, my own grandfather's life. I'm finally the monster they've always believed me to be."

"And you would let yourself be seen through their eyes? Eyes that have judged and cast aspersions on you from the moment you were conceived?" Grabbing his face, Sarah tilted his chin up so he could see the seriousness with which she spoke. "If only you could see yourself the way I see you. There was a time I looked at you and saw the monster of which you speak. A time when I envisioned you as some terrifying and cruel creature, whose compassion was a vagrant with no heart to call a home. I questioned your motive. I questioned your honesty and all because I didn't realize you were actually trying, in the only way you knew how, to love me."

Having closed his eyes when Sarah made reference to his heartlessness, the king now slowly peeled back his eye lids a question in there which made a slow journey to his lips. As his arms folded over her hips and up her spine, he asked in almost terminal desperation, "And now, Sarah, what do you see me as now?"

Electricity shot to her extremities as the combination of his greedy touch and wanton stare forced her physical passion into words. "What don't I see you as? You are my fact and my fiction. You're reality and fantasy. Condemned to take babies in the night, but compelled to teach a lesson in return. Assigned to care for creatures no one else wants yet, despite what you might say, you care for and protect them as fiercely as you would a babe. I see a fey, a fey who is loyal and devoted to the truth. A king who is admired and respected by his subjects. A man who has a heart the size of a giant overflowing with love to give and who wants nothing more than to be loved in return." Sarah's face sunk closer and closer to the Goblin King, until her lips entwined with his. His grip on her tightened and she sighed heavily as their bodies pressed together.

Breaking their bond, Sarah smoothed back Jareth's hair. "I know I will not be the first to love you," she said sadly. "But if you will allow me," her delicate fingers traced the chiseled features of his face, "I shall be the first to love you for the fey you are and not just for the fact that you are king."

For a long moment he focused on her eyes. Reflected back at him was the love he had waited his life to find. In painful slowness, his hand left the small of her back and cupped the left side of her face. "And you," he began. "I have loved you well before now, but this time and from henceforth I shall love you like the legend that you are here in my world. Pulling her to him, Jareth captured her lips, kissing her slowly and lovingly at first, as if connecting with her too quickly would shatter the moment. In seconds her mouth responded to him more eagerly and they deepened the kiss.

Their love making until now had spanned a good deal of the spectrum. They had been together madly, in a flurry of passion that left little time for exploring each other. They had been together out of anxiousness, a greedy need for satisfaction achieved by succumbing to a physical attraction. Jareth had taken her beyond elementary sex by giving her a taste of bondage the night his crystal secured her to the bed, but this time, despite not being their first was different. As they came together, it seemed to happen in slow motion, every touch, every kiss another piece in the puzzle they'd been putting together for the last fifteen years.

Jareth's hands roamed her lower back, cascading over her bottom, while her hands filled with his hair, across the back of his neck and down the sharp V of his open shirt. The cool white cotton of Sarah's dress clung to her moistening thighs. The king reach beneath her skirt, his sheathed fingers creating a friction along her legs that fanned the flames between them. Sarah let out a tiny moan when he grabbed her hips from beneath her dress and pulled her closer. His lips left her mouth. Tongue flicking, he made his way along her throat to the swell of her breasts at the neckline of the cotton dress. No more crusty poultice on those bare shoulders, he saw the scar, all that would remain of her brush with death, and kissed the tender flesh. His right hand left the cover of her dress and rose to her chest. His eyes intent as he watched his fingers dance over her skin, noticing the heavy breaths the mortal drew.

Stopping his wandering hand, Sarah caught him by the wrist with one hand as the other held his fingers straight as she manipulated his touch to include her neck and her face. The cold leather touched her lips and triggered a realization she had yet to make. Although sensation coursed through even the furthest reaches of her body, she had been as close to death as she had ever come. Suddenly, it wasn't good enough just to feel, but she thirsted to feel alive. The course leather against her skin felt like a wall of stone between her and Jareth. She had been patient up until now, but this simply wouldn't do. Her lips parted slightly and she slipped the tip of Jareth's pointer finger between her teeth. Delicately, while keeping contact with his eyes for any glint of anger or hesitation, she pulled back on the glove. Repeating the process on each of the other fingers on that hand and finally with the thumb. Working it loose with her series of tugs, Sarah finally spit the covering to the floor. Jareth didn't stop her, he didn't want to.

His hands were neither ugly nor scarred as he had joked, in fact they were as beautiful as everything else about the Goblin King was. She put his palm flat to hers and could see easily, his was not only a larger hand, but from it grew long tapered fingers and from the end of each of those a perfectly manicured nail that was neither claw-like nor chewed at. In fact, his nails were almost of perfectly equal length. Jareth closed his eyes as she continued to look at and feel his hand in hers. His breathing steady, almost as if he were trying not to think about what she was doing. Bringing his palm to her cheek, Sarah donned a content smile. It wasn't a vision she was having per say, but she knew that she had felt this touch before and guessed it must have been while she was unconscious. Nuzzled in his touch she felt a contentedness she had never known. Jareth's eyes snapped open when he felt her tears against his fingers. "Why are you crying?" he asked.

"There was a time," she said, "when I thought I'd never know what it was like to feel these hands upon me."

"'Tis a time which has come to pass," he announced as he produced his other hand and removed it's covering as well. Both hand exposed, the second as lovely as the first. Jareth undid the buttons at the front of her bodice. There were only a few, enough to close the area between her neckline and the slightly elevated waistline. When he had finished with the last one, he peeled back the fabric. Sarah watched his face, an appreciation in his eyes as if he was seeing her for the first time. As his bare hands moved to support her exposed breasts, she caught herself holding her breath. Against his palms, Jareth felt Sarah's nipples harden at his touch. Once erected, he allowed his fingers to run over them, which only further stimulate her. His heightened fey sense made it feel as if he was touching fire, but it was a burn that left him feeling warm inside rather than searing his flesh. Massaging her gently, he watched as her eyes closed and her head rolled back. It was simple to see, she was focused on nothing but his touch. His right hand left her breast and returned to her thigh beneath the dress. In surprise, Sarah's eyes fluttered open at his touch, his flesh hot against hers. Jareth watched her closely, if her look told him this was not the kind of touch she desired he would back away, regardless of what he wanted.

Content in his arms, Sarah drifted into dream. Jareth looked down at her, knowing now that love had more power than magic, that it made all of life appear different when it was pure. He couldn't allow the Triumvirate to send her away. Not tomorrow, not in a couple of days, not ever. He was immortal and yet, nothing in his life had lasted forever, not his parents, not his horse, his assistant, not even his kingdom. They'd all left him at one time or another. The king had come to expected it, but Sarah was the one thing which had come back. She was the one thing he believed could last forever and he would do anything he could to make it so. His lips pressed into her coal black hair, his nose filling with her scent. His bare hands sweeping over her, deriving more pleasure from the feel of her than he had ever realized could come from a simple touch.


	35. Chapter 34

**CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR - TRIED AND TRIED AGAIN**

As though they were newlyweds hold away in some honeymoon suite, the two continued to alternate between making love and casual conversation. It surprised them both when Arulan came knocking at their door. The king asked her in and the elf came through the door pushing a cart with two trays on it. "Ah, breakfast," Jareth said rolling his hands over one another. Arulan noticed his bare hands immediately. Her cocked eyebrows were duly noted by the king. Rather than comment, an action he knew would make Sarah uncomfortable, the Goblin King just ruffled his own brow at his servant. At his rebuttal, the elf's face lit up in a smile and she hurriedly set the trays at the table. "What? No breakfast in bed?"

"Not when it's lunch," Arulan retorted.

"Lunch?" Sarah asked, her face already beginning to flush. Deepening the shade of red on her cheeks was Sarah's realization she was still naked beneath the duvet as she moved to join Jareth in the sitting area. He had cleverly used is magic to clad himself in sleeping pants before he left their warm bed. Quickly she pulled the cover up under her arms and tightened them around her chest.

The elf's smile widened. "I should be on my way," she told them as she excused herself. "The staff will be waiting for me to join them in the dining hall. Unless you two care to take your meal with the rest of us?"

"I think not," Jareth politely refused her invitation as he used his magic to swing open the door to their chamber.

"I can take a hint," Arulan declared, shutting the door behind her as she left.

Jareth poured them both a glass of mead as Sarah slipped out of bed and wrapped a silk robe around herself. Frowning, the king watched her cover a majority of her exposed skin. "You've no reason to be embarrassed," he reminded her as she joined him at the table.

"What makes you think I'm embarrassed?" she attempted to ask coyly.

Seeing her try so hard to hide it amused him. "I've not seen that shade upon your cheeks since the second time we made love last night," he pointed out, turning Sarah's cheeks a deeper rose.

"That wasn't from embarrassment."

"Yes, well I didn't say it happened for the same reason, merely that it had happened. In fact, I would be concerned if it had happened for the same reason," he said upon second thought.

"You're worried I would be embarrassed we had made love?"

"I'm more worried Arulan might make you..."

Sarah refused to allow him to finish his thought. Rather she slunk over to him, parting the slit in her robe to reveal her thighs, then she straddled his lap. "That is a talent only you possess, dear." Jareth sneered devilishly as he grasped her and sunk his teeth into her neck. Suddenly he'd forgotten all about lunch although he still had a healthy appetite.

From her hip, she gathered up one of his hands. They were as bare as they had been the night before. "I finally feel like I have all of you," she said as she examined his long thin fingers, in awe of the pleasure they brought her skin at ever touch, amazed by the way he made her body sing.

"You always have, love. You always have." Jareth cupped Sarah's face in his palm, bringing his lips hard down on to hers. "And you always shall." Growing serious, Sarah's eyes strayed from his focus. The king was concerned he might have said something to hurt her feelings or that she may have some residual feelings of distrust at his keeping the secret of his mortal heritage from her. He backed away from her. Sarah skittered to the corner of the couch, pulling her robe back around herself. "Sarah, love, what's got you so upset?"

"I'm not upset." Screwing up his face, Jareth looked skeptically at her. "I'm not upset," she tried to sound more convincing. "Contemplative maybe." She could tell by the absence of change in his expression, he was not convinced. "Inquisitive?" Now she wasn't even convinced. "Fine! I'm upset."

"As I thought." Holding out his unsheathed hands, he welcomed her to come and lie against him. An offer she readily accepted. "Tell me what it is that has you so troubled."

"It isn't any one thing. It's more like everything."

Jareth raised an eyebrow and folded his arms around her, his chin resting on the top of her head. "Everything then, well the goblins are most probably rutting around in their food, swilling ale from the tap and that's not bothering you, is it?"

"No," she smiled. The king had that calm and easy way about him and the uncanny ability to force a smile even in the most desperate of situations. "It's just when you say always that way, in regard to you and I, it gets me thinking that we don't have always."

"I had hoped we might have made it a while longer enjoying this new found level of our relationship before we had to bring up all the difficult decision making, but if it will ease your troubled mind," Jareth held Sarah tight against him, her hands caught in his. "Sarah do you understand why it is that I couldn't touch you until now?"

"You had to be certain I truly loved you," she said as if it was common knowledge.

The king smiled at her simplicity, refreshed by her innocence. "Yes, that is true, but there are two distinct reasons. One is personal the other political. I have never touched a woman with my bare hands. As I've told you before, we fey are a particularly sensitive bunch, with heightened capabilities where each of the senses is concerned. There has never been another woman I have ever desired as much as I have desired you and so in hopes you would some day return to me, I have saved these hands for you," he offered tenderly.

"I'm glad for that," Sarah said as her thumbs rolled over his knuckles, his display now meaning quite a bit more than she had originally given him credit for. "But what political reason could there be for you to keep you hands covered?"

"You see, it was bad enough my great grandfather found himself hopelessly enamored by a woman who didn't share his class and my grandfather was as public with his affairs as he had chosen to be, but the love my parents shared made these circumstances trifle by comparison. By the time the Triumvirate had christened me fey, it was too late to punish my mother. She'd already given up on ever finding love again. No one would compare to Ian in her heart. Worried I too may be prone to this trait of hers, they added a condition."

"A condition?" she asked. "One to keep you from falling in love with a mortal."

"Precisely. You see, they tweaked my senses Sarah. They made it so were I to touch a mortal with my bare hand, the flesh would burn, causing a terrible pain for me and a dreadful experience for the female involved."

Slipping one of Jareth's hands inside her robe Sarah noted, "Your touch feels anything but dreadful to me."

"This pleases me, but I suspect it is so because I have given you my soul and more importantly because the moment you realized you had true love in your heart for me our souls fused and you no longer had the benefits and drawbacks of a fey, but you became one as well, at least fractionally." She did not respond. Not fully able to understand the meaning of what he said nor the magnitude of it. Sarah waited for him to continue. "Everything is changed for us Sarah, my love."

"Changed how?" Sitting up, facing him, she displayed a new interest in what he had to tell her.

"There is a small part of you which is fey. The Triumvirate has only forbidden unity between a fey and a mortal, but the laws have not been written for a circumstance such as ours. We could petition the Triumvirate, appeal to them, reasoning our love, a rare and true one at that, has made you a suitable mate for me by supreme intervention and therefore we should be allowed to join our lives. You would become queen of the Underground and share in ruling my kingdom."

"Queen," she repeated. "I don't think I could be queen of anything." Self doubt clouded her normally bright green eyes.

"From what I hear you did quite the job of it when you gathered my men to 'ride to my aid' at the meadow." Sarah flushed, mortified at they way he had used the words she had spouted off that day. "Don't go getting that chagrined look about you. It was a brave thing you did, the act of a clever and passionate woman whose thoughts were foremost of this kingdom and it's king. I was honored when I heard your tale of leadership recounted to me, honored and grateful I had you on my side. There's not a member of my staff nor a subject in my rule who would not be happy to serve you as they have served me, some happier."

"I got them killed," she frowned.

Jareth edged closer to her, his arm encircling her waist. "It was Tiberon's blood thirst that got them killed, nothing more, certainly nothing to do with you. Were I in your position I'd have done very near the same thing."

"Very near?" she asked, curious as to what he might do differently.

Raising an eyebrow he said, "I'd have kept the lady home from battle, for I know that is as the king would have wanted it."

A few minutes past as Sarah sat in deep reflection. "But queen, Jareth, it sounds so formal?"

"It is formal. You'd be considered royalty Sarah, you wouldn't suppose you could just go on being treated as a commoner, would you?"

Thinking it over took far less time than one might suspect. "I rather hoped that I would. I'm treated quite well by your subjects and your staff. I've never even liked being addressed as Miss Williams, let alone Queen Sarah." Although, hearing it aloud, her name and the title, united as she and the king would be, it wasn't all so bad after all.

"Well, I think it sounds lovely," he voiced. "But all of that is a technicality. We could easily ask everyone to be less formal with you in private at your request. What is important now Sarah is that we decide if you want to stay?"

"And if I want to return Aboveground, I do so without you, don't I?"

"Not necessarily," Jareth's face hung a little. He'd expected that with all the Underground had to offer her, royalty, friends, freedom, her choice would have been a rather quick and easy one. "I could return Aboveground if you wish; however, there are consequences just the same as there would be if we were to stay."

"Such as?"

"I would need to revoke my power and rescind my throne, both of which I'm willing to do, in order to reclaim my mortality. But there would be sacrifices for you as well. You would have to give up my soul."

"Give it back to you, you mean."

The king shook his head, "No, I mean give it up entirely, otherwise I could have a difficult time with the transition."

"And by difficult you mean risky." Jareth did not confirm her suspicion. "Deadly?" His eyes told her she was right. "So if I ask you to come Aboveground, you give up your kingdom, I give up your soul and we run the risk of your dying. But if I were to come Underground, I give up nothing really and I get to stay with you. It doesn't seem like a difficult decision, does it?"

"On the surface, I suppose it doesn't, but you've got your own personal demons to put to rest. Only you know if you can live with letting them all go. I will do whatever you ask of me Sarah. I will go wherever you decide we should go, you need but say the word."

"It's all so much to consider Jareth."

"So it is. Why not have something to eat," he motioned to the lunch Arulan had brought them. "We can make these decisions later."

They both picked at the trays she'd left for them. Seasoned fresh fish over rice with a side of asparagus. To Sarah, it felt positively ordinary sitting and having lunch with Jareth. She watched the way he cut his food and how his hand held his goblet when raising it to his lips. Even the rolling of his jaw muscles as he chewed were graceful. Nothing about her felt as if it fit into his world. She was rough around the edges, New York had groomed her to be tough and self aware. Nothing she had ever muttered held even a fraction of the poetic fluidity Jareth words seemed to drip with. Then there was the idea that going Aboveground again meant giving up Jareth's soul. Not an idea she was entirely comfortable with. Sarah enjoyed the idea of sharing something with him on a metaphysical level. As if he could sense her doubts, and maybe he could, the king looked over at Sarah. Smiling, his devilish grin spread ear to ear, while he looked her, Jareth's eyes showed her what he saw. A silver white ball gown that seemed to make her float across the marble floors. Combs holding up her rich black hair, revealing the delicate necklace high on her throat. Jareth always made her feel as if she belonged, if nothing else she knew that she belonged with him, and that he belonged here. The Aboveground could never appreciate everything Jareth truly was.

"So if I wanted to go back to New York, I'd have to give up your soul." Devastated, the king only shook his head. "Well that'll never do. I'm not giving away anything you've ever given me, especially not something as precious as your soul. I suppose, I'll just have to get used to being a Queen."

"Your majesty," Jareth smiled brightly as he pulled her close. "It shall be my pleasure to assist you in ever way possible." His lips covered hers in a thankful kiss, one that told her he was grateful for her decision and touched by her sentiment. "You know," he said looking thoughtful, "time has flown today. Why I believe it's time for bed already." Jareth looked at a watch he never wore. "Ah yes, it says so right here." He flashed his naked wrist at Sarah and then snatched her into his arms and lifted her from the couch. He lay her on the mattress where the duvet had been peeled back, ready to welcome her.

"Tuck me in," she requested.

Slipping in beside her, Jareth banished their clothing and pressed their bodies together. "Snug?" he asked.

"Uh-huh," she sighed. "Tell me a bed time story."

"A fairytale?"

"Of course," Sarah replied.

His fingers folded her stray hair behind her ears. "One with a happy ending, love?"

Her hand covered the back of his neck, his golden locks silk against her thin fingers. "No. One that never ends."

Her sense of humor, thrilled him. She'd be right at home here in no time. "Right then," he said as she pulled his lips closer to hers and claimed them as her own.

In Jareth's office, Deverell sat going over and over again, a piece of correspondence sent a day earlier to the Underground from the Triumvirate. Most of it was all formality. Introducing themselves and wishing the king well, In the interests of the Underground and in compliance with the bargains previously agreed upon between our organization and the king so on so forth. The part that concerned him read, "You are to bring us the mortal in three days time so that we may rectify the situation which brought chaos to our realm some six and one half weeks ago this morning." Deverell reread the line for the fiftieth time. Surely he was wise enough to think up some solution to Sarah's being sent Aboveground.

Arulan came knocking round the door. "Come in," he grunted without looking up.

"I overlooked your not being at lunch, but I simply can't allow you to skip every meal served in this castle today," she said as she set the silver tray on the desk before Jareth's new assistant.

A quick glance at the grandfather clock in the corner and he realized she had a point. "Thank you."

"What's got you pent up in here so long today?" the elf asked.

Without responding, Deverell slid the letter across the desk and watched as Arulan snatched it up and began to read. As her eyes grew wider he asked, "Now do you see?"

"Indeed," she said stiffly. "Three days time…they expect her the day after tomorrow."

"They do," he agreed. "I should notify his majesty."

"I would recommend you do it in private, without Sarah around. I'm sure he'd rather give her the news himself."

"And how am I to do that when they've been inseparable for days now. The entire kingdom is buzzing with the news of Sarah's attendance at Darien's funeral and how it came on the elbow of the king." Slumping over on the desk the king's new assistant looked to Jareth's long time servant for guidance.

"If you mean to ask for my help, I could go to their chambers with you and claim some business with milady so you are free to speak with his majesty."

Deverell drummed his fingers on the desk. "I hate to wait Arulan. I feel like I should give him as much notice as possible."

"You want to do this now?" Thinking it over for a moment she decided they had both gotten up and dressed earlier, it was probably a safe bet. "We can try."

Jumping to her side, the fey abandoned the meal she'd brought him and stood only slightly behind Arulan allowing her to take the lead as they marched off to the king's chambers. They paused at the entrance, Arulan's ivory white knuckles raising to rap upon the door. Halting in mid-twist her wrist froze. From beyond the door she heard the sounds of playful laughter and soft cooing. On the verge of tears, the elf thrust the papers back at Deverell. "I won't do this to them," she cried, "not today. Just give them today." Quietly, her frivolous footsteps barely sounded as she ran down the hall.

"If you were to have things your way, I would never leave this bed. I'd stay here until my muscles began to atrophy and I was too weak to move, and so I'd have no choice but to lie here and allow you to wait on me hand and foot, be at your mercy whenever you needed me."

"Sarah, love, I need you every minute of every day for all of eternity," Jareth said to her as she lie in his arms, nothing but the sheet covering her frame.

Her hands pulled him closer as a thought crossed and uncrossed her mind until she felt compelled to ask, "What will happen when I grow old?"

"What do you mean?"

"When I'm gone, you know, like your father. It'll happen some day. I'm okay with that, I understand. I'd just as soon live the life I've got left with you than live forever without you." Her admission moved the king deeply. Sarah felt his head fall close to hers.

In her ear, Jareth whispered, "Oh, I suppose after some acceptable period of mourning, a day or so, I'd go Aboveground and find myself another mortal to take your place."

"I see," she said in a vain attempt to remain emotionless.

He laughed as he pulled her to face him. "Do you believe everything I tell you? You precious thing. I could never love another. The day your life ends, mine ends as well, but what would you say if I offered you forever, again? Only this time I think you're old enough to understand what I mean." He waited a moment as understanding took control of her. "The Triumvirate will never allow you to remain here without christening you fey, once that happens you'll be as immortal as I am. Not only will you have forever, but I shall be at your side through every minute of it."

"What the hell?" she said nonchalantly. "It's only forever." Her lips stretched up to meet his, both curled into a grin. Jareth's lips grinned back, but after a quick brush, his love left their bed and set about dressing.

"Where is it you think you're going?" the king asked.

Sarah only began to hum as she continued, now pinning up her hair. "If I'm going to be queen, I've got work to do, things to get the hang of. Surely you don't want our subjects questioning why you've chosen me over all other mortals."

Propping his hands behind his head, the king said smugly, "Well I kept trying to get Madonna to wish away one of her little brats, but we can't always get everything we wish for."

"I can," she declared, paying him no mind. Before she left, Sarah bent to kiss Jareth goodbye, her mouth couldn't resist tasting his neck and chest before she tore herself away. "I'll be back for dinner."

A snap of his fingers and Jareth kicked his long legs out of bed, "Suppose I'll go run the kingdom," he said. "Seems I've nothing better to do." He returned her smile as she closed the door behind her, blowing a kiss between the crack as she left.

At the barn, Sarah met Gribbin who was busily grooming Shindeagon. "You startled me milady," he said when she tapped his shoulder.

"My apologies," she said with a curtsey. "Gribbin, I see you're busy. I'll come back when it's more convenient."

"Oh now, not too busy for you," he said over his shoulder. "Tell you what, if you want to take that bucket there out to the fence and treat the horses for me, I'll finish up with this one and you'll have my undivided attention."

"I'd love to," she agreed, scooping up a bucket of peeled carrots. Shindeagon whinnied as Sarah began to leave the barn, one of her hind legs kicking into the air.

"Alright, alright," Gribbin chastised. "Best give her one. Such a jealous nag, you are." The horse made a deep grunting noise at his insult to express her offense at his comment.

At the fence, Sarah was warmly greeted by all of the horses in the pen, but for the Shagya and the still wild mustang. Cymeron nudged at the carrot, but refused to eat. Sarah's hand reached out and stroked the horse along her blaze. Chataigne came and greedily gobbled up the snubbed vegetable. Shadowmere took the next and waited around for another offering. Checking the bucket, Sarah decided there was plenty for two carrots per horse and let her have her way. So as not to be out done, Chataigne gladly took another. "Come now," she encouraged the still shy horse which had belonged to Turgomon. "You've got to eat." As she had seen Jareth do with his stallion, Sarah swatted the other lingering horses away. "There, now no one's watching you." The horse only nudged the carrot, continuing to plead for Sarah's affection.

Slowly the Princess Amalthea crossed the field to where the mortal stood, she shunned Sarah's offer of food and focused her penetrating blue eyes on the girl. As she had before, the horse spoke to her in a majestic voice which echoed inside her head. "It's good to see you again."

"As it is to see you," Sarah replied. It occurred to her then why the Shagya was so readily friendly with her. Those rumors were true. She'd grown to distrust magic and found Sarah's mortality and Jareth's partial mortality a comfort to her. "I'm pleased you feel you can come to me."

The unicorn seemed to smile. "She doesn't know," the horse told Sarah. "No one's told her about Turgomon and so she thinks he's got no time for her or that she's disappointed him somehow."

"Oh," Sarah said. "Well that's not true at all."

Cymeron whinnied. "She understands you Sarah. She wants to know where her master is."

Explaining what happened wouldn't be easy for Sarah, but as she thought about the relief she could bring the animal, her choice began to clarify. "Cymeron, I've got to tell you something about Turgomon. It won't be easy for me to tell you or for you to hear. Your master isn't angry with you. His absence has nothing to do with not wanting to see you." The horse came closer, nudging Sarah's face as if she could anticipate what was coming. "I'm sorry sweetie, but Turgomon was killed at the meadow that day." Sarah watched the huge drop form in the large brown eye of the animal as her pain ran through her. "Now, now," Sarah soothed. "There was nothing you could have done." Cymeron whinnied as though she were wounded and took off running wild around the pen. "I shouldn't have told her, Sarah said as she watched the horse attempting to outrun the truth.

"We can conquer the truth, but lies only stew in our imagination until it dreams up something far worse. She'll be fine as soon as she comes to terms with her loss."

"How can she understand me?" Sarah asked.

"Perhaps it's your mortal lineage, or the calm way in which you speak, even your nature. Whatever it is Sarah, it has been given to you for a reason." Amalthea's head shook, her mane blowing wildly her horn pointing to the yet untamed stallion in the corner. "I understand the king is in need of a new stallion."

It was true. Bagheera had been killed in the battle as well. Up until now, neither Gribbin nor Jareth had been able to tame the creature to which the unicorn referred. "I don't know the first thing about breaking a horse," Sarah said.

"What's to know. A horse only needs broken because they can't understand what the riders are trying to do, but if you can talk to him, get him to understand what you want, he'll most likely jump at the opportunity to serve a king." Having given her advice, the Shagya returned to her solitary corner of the pen.

Sarah continued to watched the stallion as he snorted and strode around the field. His mane and tail were a shimmering pure black. Beneath his crimsoned brown hide his muscles rolled as he kicked his heals in the air, each stride seeming as if his feet failed to touch the ground. He was a majestic creature, worthy to serve the king, if only she could help to settle him. Curious at her stare, the stallion journeyed to the side of the field where Sarah stood and galloped passed. She noticed his white boots on all four legs and the blaze which covered his entire muzzle, from eyes to nose and spanning the full bridge. "You're beautiful," she said aloud. As if he'd heard her, the horse stopped, turned and trotted passed her more slowly. That was when Sarah noticed the star shaped white mark on his under belly, just high enough on his right side to be easily seen. 'So unique, so ethereal,' she thought.

Gribbin came behind her, a whip in his hands, snapping it in the direction of the wandering stallion who bucked onto his hind legs and let loose with a whinny which echoed across the kingdom. He snapped the whip again. It cracked against the air. "Stop it!" Sarah shouted. "Please stop."

"Milady, that's a wild stallion, you can't hand feed a wild stallion."

Looking over the magnificent equestrian, Sarah edged closer. "I beg to differ." Into the bucket went her steady hand as Gribbin looked on in fright. "Here you are," she offered him a carrot. "You wouldn't mind a treat would you? No, then come on." The horse came closer to the fence, Gribbin's look went from fright to amazement. "There you go, there. I'm not going to take it away," she promised when the creature began to sniff the offering suspiciously. "You're not the dreadful beast they think you are, are you? No you're not. Not in the slightest." The animal had begun to nibble on the edge of the carrot. "What you need is a proper name." Sarah contemplated as she watched him eat. "Stardust," she decided. "Star for that unusual marking on your side and dust like the cloud that rises behind you when you run. Stardust." The stallion seemed to shake his head as he greedily finished the first offering and stood there, waiting for another. Sarah obliged him, sticking out another carrot for him to chew.

"I can't but hardly believe what I'm seeing," Gribbin said. "No one's so much as been able to look at him before now. You've certainly got a way with animals miss."

"Gribbin, if you'll help me, I'd like to break this stallion for the king to use now that his Bagheera is gone."

"Aye miss, I'll help you." He stared on at the sight which continued to amaze him. "After what I just seen I'd be too intrigued by what came next not to."

Jareth sat in his office with Deverell as his new assistant tried to elegantly introduce the correspondence. "Sire, beg pardon, I should not have read this when I saw from whence it came and to whom it had been addressed, but since you were...busy...I admit to taking a liberty or two."

Scanning the flawless script with his mismatched eyes, the king digested the words, "That'll be tomorrow." He said nothing more, only rose in an uneasy silence there with the other fey. His boots clicked against the marble floor as Jareth paced back and forth.

"Surely you knew this was coming, your majesty."

"I did, but Deverell, there is more to this than you know." Jareth sat in one of the chairs before the fireplace and began a thin, frail laugh. "I love her and she loves me. I don't dread this trip, I'm not worried about going. Quite the contrary, I can't wait." His new assistant looked at him as if he had two heads. "This time when we go, it won't be to worry about her leaving, it will be to be sure she stays," he drew out the last word and followed it with more laughter, the catching kind that made Deverell join in.

"You're going to petition the Triumvirate?"

The king raised his eyebrow at the youngster, "So you've been doing your homework?"

"I suppose," Deverell admitted. "I just want to do a good job for you're your majesty."

"You know Deverell, that title is so formal. What say, when it's just you and I, you call me Jareth?"

"Your majesty?" he asked with great surprise.

"You heard me. Sarah's done something to me, something I can't explain, something I don't want to explain." Folding the letter, the king tucked it inside his pocket. "Since you've been doing so much research I think I'll let you take care of the petition scroll while I go and find some flowers for my mortal." Jareth turned to leave.

"I don't know if I should be drawing up something so obviously important to you."

"Come now, I've learned to trust you, you've got to learn to be trusted. Just draw it up and I'll sign it."

Stardust's blaze was snowy white in contrast to his black mane, a fact Sarah couldn't escape as she warmed up to the stallion. Her foot rested on the bottom slat of the fence as she sat on the top, leaning in to rub the horse. Gribbin watched on in horror and amazement. One leg slipped over the fence. Stardust moved away. "Give me another carrot," Sarah called softly to Gribbin.

"Milady," he replied nervously, "I'm most certain his majesty would not want you doing this." Warily edging closer with the bucket, Gribbin stopped short, trying to force Sarah back over to the outside of the pen.

His attempt failed miserably, as she made a long reach for the pail and snatched it from his shaking hands. "There, see, I'm not going to hurt you." As Stardust reached to nibble the carrot, Sarah smoothed her hand over his neck, her fingers untangling his mane. "You're a beauty, you are. A real thoroughbred." Sarah patted at his shoulder and smoothed down over his back. With a calm voice, she led him parallel to the fence. "That's a good boy, now just be steady for me." Carefully she began to climb the slats of the fence. "Steady."

"Miss, I don't think that's such a wise idea," Gribbin warned.

"Ssshhh, you'll scare him."

"Scare him?" he asked. "You're worried that I'll scare him?"

As if she didn't hear him, Sarah continued talking to the horse, "You don't mind if we go for a little ride do you?" Her hands filled with tufts of his black hair as she pulled herself on to his back. Like a shot, the stallion took off across the field. Quickly the girl lost her hold of his mane and went crashing flat on her back to the cold ground beneath. A gust of breath rushed from her chest as her eyes took in the expansive fall sky above her.

Gribbin called to her from the fence, "You alright milady?"

"Fine," Sarah grumbled back. "Have it your way," she challenged the horse who'd slowed to a trot. She'd watched Jareth mount his horse from the ground a number of times and for a moment it occurred to her she might be able to do the same. As Stardust ran circles around her she paced herself along his right side. Legs pumping in time to his stride, she reached for his mane. As her hands filled with his hair, her feet leapt from the ground. Sensing her elevation, the animal sped up, ruining her timing and leaving Sarah face down in the dirt, her skull inches from the stallion's thundering hooves.

Looking toward the Shagya, Sarah heard the words filling her head, "Don't give up now. He's impressed with you Sarah, use that to your advantage."

Dusting herself off, a new fire made the mortal jump to her feet. "Right, my advantage." Looking around the field, she spotted a stack of hay bales and a new idea crossed her mind. Scurrying up the bales, Sarah perched on top of the stack and waited. Stardust was asserting his dominance, marking his territory. Before he'd stop, his hooves would stain every inch of the pen. She could be patient. Eventually he neared the bales and thirsty from his exercise, began to drink from a nearby trough. Then hungry at his expended energy, began to nibble at the straw which stuck out from the bales. Seeing her opportunity, Sarah mounted him, a firm grasp on his mane and her legs tightening around his mid-section. For a moment he protested, but Sarah lowered her lips to his ear, gently stroking his neck as she told him, "I want you for the king, Stardust. Think about that, you, stallion to the Goblin King. What do you think of that?" The horse lifted it's two front legs into the air and let out a small cry as he broke out into a gallop. This time, the ground failed to use its magnetism to yank her down. Instead, she balanced herself atop the eighteen hand horse, the world below rushing passed like a video in fast forward. Sarah's face was aglow as the wind whipped her hair loose from its bun. Her arms extended to her sides as her legs further tightened around Stardust, all her trust in the animal. Riding a wild stallion was exhilarating, although, she also knew this ride meant his feral days would end. A piece of her felt guilty stealing his freedom by offering him companionship and yet she knew there was honor in this domestication.

Gribbin was by the fence, his stumpy legs carrying him from side to side the length of the field as he vainly attempted to keep up with the mad pattern of horse and rider. Jareth strode toward the barn, a collection of wild flowers held in his hand. The closer he came the easier it was to recognize the amber streak in the field. Wild flowers fell like confetti to the ground, contrasting the speeding horse as gift and bearer moved in slow motion. In his wake, Jareth left a splattered array as his strides changed to heavy falls when he began running toward the fence, having now recognized the figure on the back of the animal. "Sarah," he called with all the air in his lungs. As he came up beside the farrier he asked, "What have you let happen to her?" gathering up the goblin's shirt front in his leather fist. When Gribbin failed to respond, the king made a swift leap and jumped the fence, heading for the stallion. He stood in the path of the beast and narrowed his eyes, his stance rigid with resolution. Stardust slowed quickly sending Sarah jerking forward.

"Whoa," she called. The sudden change of momentum alerted her to the king's presence. Now just a few feet from the king, the stallion slowed to a trot. "Show him what you can do boy," she whispered. Before his majesty the horse stood still, his coal eyes locked with Jareth's mismatched blues. "It isn't what you think, Jareth," Sarah tried to explain. In humbling servitude, the once wild stallion fell to his knees and bowed to the king. Carefully, Sarah dismounted, "This is your new stallion. This is Stardust."

Grabbing his love, he pulled Sarah close to his side. "What are you doing? Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?" Jareth looked back at the subservient horse, still unimpressed with his genuflection. "This is a feral animal. It is no match for you." Noticing her grass stained clothes, Jareth began to paint the picture. "Why is he doing that? And you, what happened to you?"

Sarah smiled, her white teeth a strong contradiction to her skin, smeared with mud and perspiration. "He's bowing to his king. Come on, you need a new horse and this one," Stardust rose to his feet, his head held high with dignity, "this one is the finest there could be, except of course for Bagheera." She watched Jareth eye the horse, stalking around the animal, assessing his physique and judging his temperament. "He's as stubborn as you are and twice as arrogant."

"And broken by the same woman I see," Jareth raised a brow at the mortal while he reached for the horse's blaze. "You are a fine specimen. I certainly approve of your look, solid and noteworthy. You have respect in you." Stardust accepted his touch, though he withheld the affection he had shown Sarah. Probably for the best given theirs would begin as more of a business relationship. Jareth's wounds at the loss of Bagheera were deep. They would take time to heal, it would take time until this creature was anything more than a servant to him, anything more than a new member of his staff. The king looked from the intense stare in the wide eyes of the animal to the knowing beam which Sarah wore. In time, he would come to accept this creature as his, in time he would love and trust it has he had his former steed. "Well, we'll see how it goes, but I'm not making any promises." After a brief pause, Jareth swatted the horse and sent him back to running about the field. Sarah thought she noticed his head held a bit higher and hers rose too, with pride at what she had been able to accomplish with him. "You need a bath," he chided Sarah.

"So I do," she agreed. "Care to help me with the spots I can't reach.

"Say no more," Jareth said raising his hand and transporting them both home.

Steaming water filled the tub in the master bath to the rim, nothing but soft candle light filling the room, as Sarah wiped the grime from her face. "What a busy day you've had," the king commented as he undid the buttons of her blouse. "What possessed you to break a wild stallion?" he asked. Sarah shrugged, busy enjoying his touch. Her open shirt exposed the curve of her breasts, but rather than peel back the cotton cover from her skin, Jareth reached into her hair, removing a pin, loosening her already crumbling chignon. His free hand lifted and removed the last pin. His fingers shook her hair, causing it to fall loose around her face, over her shoulders. Sarah fought the urge to shake her locks, resting her head back into his palms instead. Massaging her scalp, the king continued to entangle in her long strands.

"Mmmmm," she moaned as the ache in her neck conceded to the persuasive touch. "Take off the gloves."

"Beg your pardon?" he asked in bogus surprise.

Sarah's eyes, which had fallen closed seconds after she felt Jareth kneading her scalp, snapped open. "You heard me." A finger jabbed at his chest, "Take off the gloves."

"Take off the blouse," he countered.

"You are no longer the innocent little girl who left me all those years ago, I see."

"Does that displease your majesty?" she asked, nervous that it may.

"Oh no, love, it pleases me very much," he said while thinking it would be damn near impossible to grow bored with someone who was so apt to change.

"Good," she replied, pulling him to her by the shoulders.

"I love you," she told him as his strange eyes caressed her.

"And I you, love."

Smiling she asked, "Do you suppose you'll ever grow bored of me?"

"No, I don't think that will be an issue for us." They both laughed.

Jareth met Arulan at the door, as Sarah finished dressing and helped her to bring the silver dinner trays into the seating area. "I figured this being your last night, you'd want to have dinner privately." The king hushed her and looked quickly about to see if Sarah had joined them. "You haven't told her!" Another hush from the king. "Jareth, really, how could you not tell her."

"They've let her stay every time, every time. Do you really think they'd be so heartless as to take her from me now?"

Her eyes stayed to the floor, "The future is not mine to predict anymore than it is yours to control. You've got to tell her Jareth. She'll want to prepare, mentally if nothing else. She'll want to think up what she should say. She'll have questions, want to know what they'll expect of her, what they'll ask." Gathering up the lids, Arulan left as Sarah came from the bath. "Good day miss," the elf said just as she backed into the hallway.

"What's going on?" the mortal asked when she saw Jareth's tentative look.

"Nothing," he lied. "Come, have your dinner." Sarah sat across from him, nibbling at her meal and waiting for him to say something more. "What if this had been your last day here?"

Calmly, she replied, "I don't know. I can't say I would be disappointed in how I had chosen to spend it, but it would have been nice to see Hoggle again. Or Ludo and Didymus for that matter, but even if I hadn't, I wouldn't regret what I've done with my time here, wouldn't regret what I've done with you," she added when she saw the king's face drawing long. "But Jareth," his eyes met hers, "I don't want to leave. We're going to petition the Triumvirate, that's what you said. Have you changed your mind?" Sarah's fork fell against her plate.

"No, certainly I haven't." He caught her hand and held it in his glove. The leather suddenly repulsing her more than usual. "Sarah, my love, there's something I must tell you. Something I should have told you the moment I was made aware, but alas you do succeed in distracting me." Though the thought of how had graced his lips in a seductive sneer, it was quickly replaced with seriousness. "Tomorrow, we go before the Triumvirate."

"When tomorrow?"

It was hard to determine her mood as she stared at her plate, her hand limp in his. "Immediately after breakfast."

Sarah looked at him, her eyes wet and asked, "May we dine with the others in the morning?"

"Aye, and if it pleases you, I'll invite your friends as well."

"I'd like that," she admitted. He was nothing if not willing to please, with her at least.

They went back to eating, uncomfortable silence their only companionship until Jareth could bear it no longer, "You never said why it was you practically got yourself killed with that stallion today."

"I just wanted to give something back to you. You've given me so much and I cost you Bagheera."

"You have _cost_ me nothing. It's true, I have lost a great many things in your name, but I would give them over tenfold, I would give everything I have for you Sarah and I would do it willingly." Shoving his tray aside, Jareth took Sarah by the hand and led her to their bed. "Close your eyes and rest, love. I'm off to make arrangements for tomorrow's breakfast, when I get back..."

"When you get back, you'll wake me."

"Oh Sarah, it's going to take me some time to write all those scrolls. You need your rest." Lifting the duvet he tucked her in up to her chin.

"Jareth, if his is to be my last night here I've no intention of sleeping. When you get back, you'll wake me," she reminded.

"I'd be a fool not to," he said dropping a tiny peck on her nose.

Around the table in the dining room was gathered a truly eclectic bunch. Deverell to the king's right, where Turgomon once sat, Dalkeil at his side and then Hoggle and his wife, with little Sarah between them. At the foot of the table Winston and his wife. Jareth had not forgotten their hospitality during his trial through the Labyrinth. Next to them Mason, Didymus and Ludo. Arulan assumed her regular seat. The head was left open for Jareth and to his left an open space for Sarah.

Through the double doors, they came arm in arm, dressed in their best formal blacks, the king and his mortal. Pulling out her chair, the king waited as she stood taking them in. Tears filled her eyes until all she saw was a huge orangish blob, next to a tiny brown furry ball and three other Hoggle looking figures. Everything else was so small it escaped her vision entirely, but from that silent room where nothing looked like it should have, Sarah heard one distinct sound which rung gleefully in her ears. "Sarah Two," the tiny child called as she waddled her way across the table to the waiting arms of the woman for whom she had been named.

"Sarah, angel, look at how big you've gotten!" she exclaimed.

"Why you always say that?" the wee one asked.

Looking at her, in awe of her innocence, the mortal explained, "Cause you always do."

"Far to big to be walking on tables," Drema chastised. "Now get down on the floor, walk over here and take your seat."

Sarah took her seat as the servants came to fill everyone's glasses. Jareth stood at the head, his glass in the air. "I would like to thank you all for coming. As you know, Sarah goes before the Triumvirate this morning. Neither of us," he indicated Sarah, "wants her to go and I'm sure none of you does either, but come what may I wanted to thank each of you for all you have done to make her stay here comfortable and welcoming." He lifted his glass and sipped from it. Those in attendance did the same.

When he finished Sarah stood. Her hand reached for Jareth's and she said quietly, her eyes fighting not to cry, "You have all been incredible friends and though they tell me otherwise, if I leave here today, I shall never forget any of you or any of those who could not be here with us today." There was more she had wanted to say. The words roamed around in her head the night before while she waited for Jareth to return, but somewhere between their lovemaking and having to see all the faces she had only imagined the night before, they'd been forgotten.

Everyone was quiet as they ate and it was the exact atmosphere Sarah had been looking for, just sitting there with all of them, having them around her. There were no words necessary for what existed between them. When the servants came to clear the table of dishes, suddenly, everyone had something to say. "Ludo...sad," moaned the enormous beast.

"I tend to agree with my brother, milady," the small fox joined in. "Seems as if we've only just gotten you back, it saddens me verily to see you go."

"No one's gone nowheres yet," Hoggle reminded them.

Sarah One stood in her chair, "You're not going are you Sarah?" When she got no answer, the child whined, "Are you?"

"Were it in my power, dear child, I would stay here with you all, forever." Her words were full of sincerity and yet they lacked of any surety at all. Reaching deep, Sarah searched for something positive, "But Hoggle's right, none of us knows anything yet. The Triumvirate are the ones who'll make the decision and the best we can do is appeal to them."

"If you don't mind my saying," Winston began, his tufted blue hair the only evidence of him from across the long table, "What if we all went to the Triumvirate?"

"Yes," Mason agreed. "If we were all to go together, to tell the Triumvirate how much we care for milady Sarah and what good she's done for this place, then maybe."

Deverell reached into his interior vest pocket and pulled out a scroll. Handing it to Jareth he said, "The lot of us going only stands to infuriate them. What I know of the Gavel is enough to know he wouldn't much appreciate feeling ganged up upon."

"This is a petition," Jareth said undoing the scroll. "Sarah has already agreed and if we're able to sway the Triumvirate, she'll stay here and help me rule this kingdom."

"She'll die," Mason said.

"She'll be christened fey," Jareth countered.

"Sa...rah stay," Ludo cheered.

Hoggle came to her side. "Are you sure this is what you want Sarah, what you really want?"

Kneeling, she took him into her arms. "To be with you and Drema all my life, to be surrounded by my friends, friends who are willing to die for me. Who wouldn't want just this?"

"But it comes at a price, ya've got to be his queen. Do you want that?"

"I do," she said looking up at the king. "I do," she said again focused on the dwarf. "Hoggle, I'm in love with Jareth, truly in love with him. My world is empty without him in it. There's nothing left Aboveground for me."

"I was afraid you'd say that." Hoggle threw up his tiny hands, "Suppose there's no changin' your mind then." Sarah shook her head side to side. "Well if I can't talk any sense into this one, I might as well try and knock some sense into this one," Hoggle looked up at Jareth, wagging his finger wildly. "I'm warnin' you, if I ever hears of you makin' her unhappy, I'll...I'll..." With a grunt Hoggle lifted his stout little leg and kicked Jareth right in the shin.

"Ouch!" Jareth called as he held his shin, hopping on the other leg. "What was that for?"

"Just a warnin' is all. I ain't afraid of you, not when it comes to my Sarah anyway."

Jareth looked down at Hoggle, he seemed taller, bolder, braver and the king knew he'd fallen prey to Sarah's charms all the same as he had. She made them all better men, better mythicals. On one knee, the king met the dwarf's huge uncertain eyes. "The next time you do that Hoggle, I'll suspend you outside the Labyrinth gates and cover you in pollen for the flower fairies to collect. As for your warning, it is duly noted. Now, if I offer you my hand, do you solemnly swear not to crush my fingers." Hoggle flicked his chin back and waited to see if the extended hand would really come. When it did, Hoggle put his tiny hand inside Jareth's and shook it firmly. Rising to his feet, he addressed the gathering. "I'm very sorry to hurry you all away, but we must be going. Thank you all for coming and I hope to welcome you all here again, when my mortal becomes my queen."

Taking his arm, Sarah prepared for their transport. Her free hand waved madly as her eyes skipped over her friends which had gathered together for her. In her heart this was her home and she didn't want to be sent away. She only hoped it would be so easy for the Triumvirate to see.

The Gavel was the first face they saw when they popped up in the great hall. Sarah wiped her eyes quickly and tighten her posture. "Jareth, mortal," the Gavel addressed them. Jareth bowed while Sarah curtsied at his side. Impulsively the girl moved to speak, but the Gavel hushed her. "Before either of you says a thing, let us speak. The mortal has been here nearly a week beyond that to which we agreed. We have been generous. The land is more than replenished and for that we grateful, but we have also lost members of our community and for the most part, as it is hard to care for Darien, we are heavy hearted. We three are in agreement, the arrangements made were temporary in nature and as we have seen, it is not always wise to go against what the Underground desires, so..."

Jareth stopped him short, "Before you go on, I have a scroll you must take into consideration."

"Jareth," the Cleric snapped, "let him finish."

"Beg your pardon my grace, but please if you'll read this," he handed the scroll to the Cleric.

His eyes roamed the words on the parchment. "I see," he began. "And you Miss Williams, are these sentiments yours as well?"

"Aye your grace." Her legs shook as she curtsied to him.

"In light of what I read here, I can make only one recommendation. Gavel, brother, go on with your ruling."

Devastated Jareth gawked at him, "Cleric, you? You would turn your back on us now when it was you who began all this, you who encouraged me from the start."

"Gavel," the Cleric urged.

"As I as saying, we three are in agreement. It is unwise to go against what the Underground's desires, and so," he left his throne and walked to where Sarah stood, looking down at her, seriousness in his eyes, "seeing as how this land has thrived in her presence," he took her hand and sunk to his knees. She trembled head to toe, "we would be delighted if you would stay." For a moment she couldn't breathe.

From behind them Jareth asked, "What are you saying?"

"I'm offering you residency, partial or complete, it is up to you. You can choose the sector in which you wish to live and be it regularly or intermittently, stay there. What says you milady?"

The Cleric came to join them. "I believe the lady has other living arrangements in mind." He handed the scroll to the Gavel.

"True love. You wish to petition us on the grounds of true love?" Sarah nodded and Jareth took up at her side. "Were you to have handed me this a month ago it would have been over a very hearty laugh that I denied you; however, my mother believed in true love and if she can do it, then her son should be able to as well." He took his seat, as did the Cleric. "Know this, both of you, there are rules for this sort of thing and they are not particularly reasonable in your case, but if each of you is willing, I see no glaring objection to be made, other than the fact that you, Sarah, are mortal."

"I'm willing to give up my mortality to be christened fey," she said sternly.

"Oh that such were all you'd have to give up," the Sage chimed in. "I'm afraid all mortal magic you possess would be lost to you."

"I don't care if all my magic is lost. Love and friendship are the only magics I need." Indignantly she added, "Those are things not even you can take from me."

"Jareth," the Cleric asked, "I think you may have met your match in this one."

"So, you are willing to become fey?" the Gavel asked.

"I am," Sarah responded.

"Do you accept my offer of residency?"

"I do," she replied.

"Now there is a question of your two being united." He drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne. "As is the law, the approval of both sets of parents must be sought and obtained. We'll deliver scrolls to the castle in the next day or so. You'll have two weeks, one for each family. Sarah, because your family is Aboveground, you'll also need to get their permission to permanently leave their world."

The king's mouth fell open in surprise at their expectation, "Both my parent's are dead!"

"And I'm far beyond the age of consent in my world," she pointed out.

"And yet here, you're little more than eight by comparison," he told Sarah. "And you Jareth, your mother has never been the quiet type. I'm sure with a bit of work you can get her shriek of approval." He looked at both of them, their faces heavy hung with concern. "I never said it would be easy or pleasant. Our pasts are often hard things to face. Take the deal or leave it. You're choice has no impact on me." He waited, but no one added anything. "If you're able to get permission, you'll need to prove yourself worthy to be a queen, you'll need to come up with a plan to improve the Underground. Assuming you're able to do that, the two of you will be asked to make a sacrifice, the giving of something you cherish to show your loyalty. Normally a royal would be leaving behind a fine home, servants, livestock and that sacrifice is considered enough in return for the throne. In your case it will be more complicated to choose a sacrifice, but at such time as one becomes necessary, we will have chosen it for you."

"And then we can be united?" Jareth asked.

"And then," the Sage continued, "in honor of the mortal's customs, we shall set an engagement period. A time for observation to assess whether or not her plans for the Underground have truly brought a change for the better. After that, you may be united."

"More hoops than a poodle show at the circus," Sarah whispered to the king.

"I'm willing to jump if you are love," he whispered back.

"I, Sarah Williams of the Aboveground, agree to your demands and humbly thank each of you for the kindness and generosity you have shown me." Sarah genuflected.

"So be it," announced the Gavel. "You are dismissed."

Jareth gathered her up, fighting hard to not show his real emotions so brazenly before his superiors. "Wait a minute your majesty," the Gavel said gruffly when he saw them preparing to go. "My mother and brother are waiting in the garden. They thought it might be nice if we all had tea to celebrate. I was hoping you'd join us."

The Cleric came up on Sarah's free side and took her hand. "If you ask me," he told her quietly, "you've already made this realm a better place."

"I'd have to agree," Jareth added as he smiled down at her.


	36. Chapter 35

**CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE - PARENTAL CONSENT**

Three days after the couple had met with the Triumvirate a series of scrolls arrived in the morning post. Deverell resisted the urge to read them and took them straight to the king, who was at the stables with Sarah continuing to train Stardust. "Your majesty," he called as he approached the field. Stardust jerked and whinnied, then backed away from Jareth, who had been feeding him.

"Quiet for a second," Sarah told the assistant as she met him at the fence. "He's still a bit skittish. Let Jareth finish feeding him and he'll be right along." There was a pause before she asked, "The Triumvirate sent the scrolls I take it?"

"Yes milady," Deverell confirmed. He lifted a sack at his side. "They've only just arrived this morning. Would you like to have a look?"

For a long moment, she considered it, and finally concluded it would be best if she were to wait for Jareth. Still she couldn't seem to resist them as she continued to stare. "Did you bring this morning's entire post with you?" she asked.

"No miss. This is only the batch of scrolls sent by the Triumvirate."

"Only the scrolls?" she questioned, amazed that what she thought would be a simple piece or two of parchment required a sack.

"Yes miss," Deverell continued. "There are five scrolls in total and several of them have been packaged in silver tubes for protection during travel I imagine."

"Packaged?"

"Have a feel," he offered her the sack. "Weighty bits they are."

"I see," Sarah acknowledged as she hoisted the bag briefly before returning it Deverell's side. "Why so many?"

"I've no idea. I thought it best I bring them straight to Jareth, I mean his majesty."

"It's alright Deverell, you may refer to me the same in front of Sarah as you do when we're in private," the king said when he joined them, an arm folding around the mortal as he kissed her cheek. "Now there's a sack full of scrolls you have to show me." His hand started in the direction of the bag causing Sarah to look at him in awe. "Fey hearing, love." For a second she'd forgotten about his extraordinary senses.

"Yes, Jareth, five scrolls, all sent from the Triumvirate and delivered this morning."

"Some in traveling packages, silver tubes," Sarah added.

Her anticipation made him smile. "They're probably concerned with us taking them Aboveground Sarah, that's all. Relax, let me look at these." Deverell handed him the bag and then offered his arms as support while the king dug through. He pulled out one of the silver encased scrolls. There was an engraving on the side which read: Mr. and Mrs. Robert Williams. The next was a loose scroll he would take to his mother, a trick Jareth had not yet figured out how to perform. The third scroll, he passed to Sarah as he said, "This is for you to complete regarding your plans to improve the Underground." As her eyes busily studied the parchment, Jareth withdrew the last two scrolls and replaced the two he had been holding. There was another encased tube engraved with the name: Ms. Williams, which Jareth assumed was another piece for Sarah and the remaining scroll was instructions from the Triumvirate.

_Jareth:_

_In so much as you and the mortal have expressed your desire to unite, we respectfully request you obtain parental consent as indicated by three of the four enclosed scrolls. The forth scroll is for Ms. Williams, so she might outline for us her ideas on improving the kingdom and better express her desire to be queen._

_The enclosed scroll addressed to the Leanan Sidhe, should be consented to by her spirit and if necessary executed by a reputable eye witness. Reputable meaning one of us, Deverell or some other fey as we see fit. Your mortal and your goblins are not suitable witnesses._

_The remaining enclosed scrolls have been sealed in containers for protection during your transport to the Aboveground. One is to be signed by Sarah's father and his wife, her legal guardian, consenting not only to the union, but to the mortal's decision to remain Underground. These documents will give her full emancipation and remove all rights of the aforementioned parents. Likewise a duplicative scroll has been crafted for Ms. Williams' mother. To the best of the knowledge in the realm, Ms. Williams' mother has not remarried and there is no legal guardianship on her maternal side. If we're incorrect please advise immediately as these documents are time sensitive._

_You will be given a combined total of two weeks to obtain the signatures and complete the scrolls. While we allot a week for each individual, you are welcome to complete negotiations with one family more quickly and use the additional time to negotiate with the remaining one, as may prove useful when one considers you have but one parent and Sarah has three; however, no more than two weeks can be provide and pleas or petitions for extension will not be heard. We have been generous._

_Should you have questions or concerns regarding processing these scrolls you're welcomed and encouraged to contact us. We sincerely wish you the best in this endeavor._

_Very truly yours,_

_The Gavel, the Cleric and the Sage_

Jareth's eyes reread the line, 'Likewise a duplicative scroll has been crafted for Ms. Williams' mother' several times. "What is it?" Sarah asked, finished reviewing her scroll and suddenly more interested in the look on his face. "Jareth, what is it?"

Spinning the silver tube in his hand, he showed her the engraving. When she reached for it, he caught her hand, "Sarah they want you to get a signature from your mother."

"Karen? You mean Karen and my dad," Sarah screwed up her face. "Don't you?"

"Well yes, Karen and your father, but they want your mother's also."

Letting her arms fall to her sides, she yelped, "I don't even know where my mother is?" Disappointed, her shoulders slumped and her view was nothing but grass and dirt.

"We can find her," Jareth tried to calm her fears. "Whatever you're worrying over, there's no cause. There are spells, I can use my crystals, I promise you, whatever it takes we'll find her and we'll maker her sign this scroll."

Tears balanced precariously on the edge of her eyelids as her focus left the scroll and ascended to the king's face, "I don't want to see my mother Jareth. Don't you see?" Handing back the scroll she had been holding, her feet began to carry her back to the castle. "I don't want to know where she is." Halfway down the hill, the king's acute hearing picked up one final cry, "I don't care where she is."

Face down on their bed, Sarah wailed. Jareth was quick to land at her side once he passed off the scrolls to Deverell for safe keeping. "Sarah, darling, what's wrong?" he soothed.

"I don't want to talk about it," her muffled reply came from a small crack between the duvet and the inside of her elbow.

His gloves fell to her shoulders, "Sarah, oh Sarah, there's nothing you can't talk to me about." She rolled onto her left side, looking at him through swimming eyes. "I know I've given you reason not to trust me, not to confide in me, but I mean to make that right. I mean to be as honest with you as I hope you will find yourself able to be with me.

She sat up, folding her legs underneath herself, the backs of her hands sliding over her cheeks pushing away cried tears. "It's not about trusting you. I trust you. I love you," she smiled at him brightly compelling him join her on the mattress. His head was at her right side as Jareth rested his hot lips against the tightened skin covering her knee. Gloved hands rubbed her thighs while he spooned around her, offering her comfort and a safe environment where she could express whatever it was locked inside her. "I love you," she repeated combing through his long blond hair, new tears already beginning to gather in her eyes. When he looked back at her the way he did she knew she'd made the right decision, not just in asking to stay, but in coming back. Even though it had meant waiting the fifteen years until she was ready, able to accept him and all he was, all he had to offer. In her wildest schoolgirl fantasy she couldn't have possible appreciated his world back then, not at fifteen, probably not even at twenty when she was just getting her first taste of freedom. At twenty five it may have been possible, but she was busy then trying to put away her childish reminders of youth and forge on into some brave new adulthood. Fantasy novels segued way to biographies and rag dolls turned to collectible porcelain figurines. But now at thirty, she wanted life to be an allegory contrivance to make the world seem less egocentric. 'Reconnecting with him now was exactly the way it was supposed to be,' she thought as she traced her fingers from his temple to his chin.

Stilling her hand he kissed the tips of each of her fingers. "And I love you, Sarah," he confessed placing her palm over his heart. "I could take a wooden lance through my chest and live," the king sad with inordinate seriousness. "What beats beneath this cage of bone and wrap of flesh, beats for you, not for me."

Laughing she wiped away those fresh tears. Showing herself to him was nothing to fear, quite the contrary, it seemed the more of herself she showed him, the more he was able to nourish all her attributes and repair the faults which years of pain had left in her. With him she had found pride, she had found self worth and leaned to trust. More than trust, for trust often rode the coattails of love into a benevolent heart. Trust was a beginning, one that for Sarah led to things like hurt and disappointment, but Jareth excelled the expectations she had for him. "You really want to know, don't you?" she asked, still gazing at him as though it were the first time they had ever set eyes upon one another.

"I want to know everything about you, the good and the bad. I want to undo every hurt you've ever felt, reinforce every fondness, but only at your pace, love, only when you're ready for me to know."

Slinking down beside him, Sarah's legs twisted with the king's and their arms folded over one another. Her long fingers walking over his lips. "Kiss me," she requested. He obliged with all the tenderness he could feel, anxious to convey them to the woman in his arms, hopeful she was feeling everything he couldn't find the words for. When her lips parted to accept his advance, her warm breath filled him. Salt from her tears, seasoned her mouth, he could taste it.

Jareth knew there was great heartache inside of her, a pain she was ready to let go of. Though he ached for her, he broke their kiss tenderly. Their foreheads pressed together, Sarah's cheeks resting in his palms, he whispered to her, "What were you about to tell me, love?"

"I turn a child again whenever I so much as think of her. I'm that same prepubescent whelp I was the day she left, worse." Her sentences came slowly, gapping pauses between them as she went on recounting her youth. "I regress right back to the days right after they fell out of love. Isn't that a ridiculous concept for me to try and explain to you, falling out of love. When they tried to justify it, that's what they said. 'Mommy and daddy have fallen out of love. It happens sometimes, grown ups just grow apart. It's got nothing to do with you. You must understand, we still love you, we just don't love one another.' Well I didn't understand. If they were grown up already, why did they need to grow anymore? And if they had too, why apart, why not together? How did you suddenly fall out of fourteen years of being in love and why wasn't anybody fighting to fall back in? Hell, I tried to push them back in, but it backfired, made them hate each other more. I'd spend nights at my girlfriends' houses, in their perfectly nuclear families, thinking if they had time alone without the pressure of being parents they'd be able to be lovers."

Jareth's hand made soft soothing circles on the small of her back, "Their divorce was not the result of your not being able to keep them together."

As if she had never heard him speak, Sarah went on. "Of course I didn't think of them as lovers then, but I knew, I knew they had a tenderness between them, something visible. The pictures of them when they were in college together, they were so carefree looking. Daddy conceded to audition for one of their productions and found himself playing Nick Bottom opposite her Titania in the NYU production of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. During a scene in the wood when they were to meet in Titania's bower, daddy leaned in to kiss her and whispered in to her ear that he wished to marry her and as she took his hand, she found waiting in his palm a solitaire round cut diamond engagement ring. Mother was smitten with him after that, I remember her telling me about it. I remember how they'd cook together and sing or the way they would kiss as they passed in the hall. When I was ten, Mr. Everett, my mother's college drama teacher called and told her the class had chosen to do Pirates of Penzance. Then he asked if she'd consider playing Ruth, an older nurse maid who cared for an apprentice, Frederick, to the Pirate King."

"And this Pirate King, is he a fearsome type who might care to challenge me?" Jareth asked her softly.

Never failing to evoke a smile, Jareth's comment seemed to shake Sarah from her reverie. "No," she told him. "The Pirate King could never challenge you. He's just some made up character in a play, You're real." Her hands pawed as if she needed to make certain of that fact.

"He's the one isn't he, this Pirate King, he's the one who took your mother away."

Tears poured out of her eyes in place of her acknowledging he was correct. "Even Mr. Everett remarked at how much make up they need to get mother looking the part. The Pirate King was an alumni from NYU as well only he was ten or so years behind my mother. His name was Patrick. During the production, mother was asked not to wear her wedding ring so as to better fit the role and when Patrick showed an interest in her, she lied about her age. 'Harmless flirtation', I heard her shouting at my father one night not long after the show closed. She left that night. By the time I was twelve, mom and Patrick were the hottest on-stage/off-stage couple to hit Broadway and daddy had met Karen. In the begin she'd visit now and again, bringing some trinket with her when she came. Music boxes, marionettes, playbills, I had them all. I had everything a girl could want, but for a mother. I followed her career, saved clippings, tried to pretend it didn't matter, that there was nothing motherly about her. She wanted to be my friend, asked me to call her Linda, because it was 'trendier' than mom. I suppose you can say I literally got my acting talent from my mother."

"You know," Jareth interrupted, "we've more in common than I thought."

"How's that?"

"Our mothers both passed us off to someone else."

Sarah rolled onto her back and peered up at the ceiling. "Only you've got Arulan and I've got Karen," she sighed.

"It's not my place to say, but do you think part of the problem with Karen might be that you were never able to accept her as a mother because you were never able to give up on Linda after she gave up on you?" Full time king, part time psychologist, Sarah looked at him slack-jawed. "I'm not trying to be judgmental, love. Look at Arulan and I, ours is not the model step-relationship either. I understand what it's like to not be able to deny a parent Sarah, believe me I do."

"I was 23 the last time I saw her."

"Karen?"

"No, my mother."

"Your graduation?" he asked harmlessly.

Turning away from him, Sarah explained, "No, auditions. We were both trying out for the part of Rizzo in a production of Grease. After I got the part, she never spoke to me again."

Coming up behind her, Jareth pulled her tightly into his arms, "Jealousy Sarah, it was all out of jealousy."

"A mother shouldn't be jealous of her child," she said as she rolled over to bury her head into his neck. "I never asked her to be jealous of me. I just wanted her to still love me, like she said she did when she left."

Smoothing her hair he reassured her, "She couldn't love you darling. She didn't even love herself." When her torrents wore down to a mild whimper, he went on, "You're old enough to realize now that what she did was wrong, smart enough to know you didn't provoke it and when we go Aboveground, you'll face her with all the grit you had when you faced me. Your back stiff, your chin solid, you'll look her right in the eyes and let her know she has no power over you, not any longer."

"Where's Sarah?" Jareth popped his head into the office to ask Deverell.

"I haven't seen her...no wait," he lifted his eyes from whatever document was holding his attention. "Come to think of it, she was here earlier this morning. She asked a bunch of questions, said she was going to see Arulan and left."

The king went to find his servant. "Arulan, is Sarah with you?"

"No."

"Did you see her today?" he asked, not pleased by her response.

"I did. She asked a bunch of questions, said she was going to see the kitchen staff and then left."

"Then I shall go and see them," Jareth roared.

Arulan, who had been fixing flowers in a vase, wiped her hands on her apron, "Won't do you any good. I saw her leave them too, went downstairs, probably to see Dalkeil.

Jareth found Dalkeil, "I don't suppose you know where she is either?" he asked when he saw the room empty.

"And by she I only suppose you mean Sarah?" The Goblin King nodded, this little game beginning to anger him. "Well I had seen her, just before lunch. She asked me a bunch of questions, said she was going to see Gribbin and then went to the barn with a picnic basket she got from the kitchen staff."

Worry began to consume him. After they spent most of the night discussing Sarah's relationship with her biological mother and the many ways it was similar to his relationship with Leanan Sidhe, the two of them slept through breakfast. When Jareth woke up she was not next to him in bed. His instinct told him to find her immediately, but not wanting to seem too controlling, he busied himself with other things until lunch. When she didn't show up for lunch, he kept calm in front of the staff, trying to appear aloof, as if her being missing from the dinner table was completely expected, but it was now drawing close to the evening meal and she was still no where to be found. He'd tried the office first, assuming she'd gotten her nose stuck in one of his books and followed the trail that Deverell had begun from him to the barn. As he approached, Jareth could see Gribbin grooming the animals, but he saw no raven haired mortal by his side or anywhere near for that matter. "Gribbin," he called impatiently from a few yards away. "Was Sarah by here?"

"Aye, my grace, and so she were," he replied. "Had a bunch of questions for me."

Rolling his eyes, Jareth asked, "Did she say where she was going?"

"Matter of fact she did, now if I can remember," he scratched his head. "Something about the dwarves, Hoggle or Mason, can't remember exactly which one."

Pivoting on his heels, Jareth turned to head toward the door to the Labyrinth. "Hoggle or Mason. Can't remember exactly which one. Bunch of questions. Bunch of bull," he spouted randomly as he stomped along the grass to the sandy edge of the Labyrinth.

"Thank both of you very much for your time." The king had no trouble recognizing the escapee when he heard her voice from the edge of a fountain off to the far right. "And Hoggle, you'll remember to have Drema fill that out and bring it back to me."

Tucking the paper into a pouch hung from his waistband, Hoggle mumbled, "I gots it, I gots it. I'll bring it back to the castle likes you said."

"And Mason, I gave you two didn't I?" Sarah fumbled with the papers on her lap, "One for Didymus and one for Ludo."

"Yes, miss, but what about Winston and Jena?" Mason asked.

"Oh, I was hoping to get to them myself, but it's getting so late"

Jareth's stern voice interrupted, "It certainly is." Sarah hadn't seen him look so angry in quite a while.

"Say not another word, miss. Shall be my pleasure to deliver those as well."

Hoggle snatched the two additional sheets out of Sarah's hand as she leaned over to hand them to Mason. "Pass 'em on my ways home. I can handle it."

"So this is what you've been doing all day," the king said, sitting beside her on the fountain wall and looking at a few of the papers she'd set down close by.

"Yes," Sarah replied taking her papers from Jareth's hand, leaving him with a shocked look upon his face.

"Don't the two of you have things you can be doing?" he snapped at the dwarves. Mason plodded away, into the Labyrinth. Hoggle stood up and kissed Sarah's cheek before he left, taking advantage of Sarah's closed eyes to shoot Jareth a nasty look.

When they were both through the door, Sarah turned to the king, "That was mean."

"You disappear all day, not so much as a note and suddenly I'm mean?"

"It's not their fault I forgot to leave a note," Sarah gathered up her things and started back to the castle.

"Well it's not for lack of you having paper," he pointed out as he caught up with her. "Going to tell me what you've got there?"

"No," she saw how hurt Jareth appeared and quickly added, "this is just research. When I've got it all finalized, I'll discuss it with you."

"Discuss what with me?"

"You'll see."

"Why can't I see now?" the king behaved like an impetuous child.

"Because," Sarah said sternly.

Jareth pulled her to him, her work stuck between their chests, "Not even for a kiss?" His lips covered hers and she returned his tender affection.

"Not even for a kiss," she said as they parted.

"I see, so everyone else in the entire kingdom has given you there opinion on something and you don't care to have mine?"

"Not everyone in the kingdom. There were too many goblins, many of whom were incoherent, so I took just a sampling of the more well spoken ones."

"Of course," he said gruffly.

"I do want your opinion, Jareth, but I don't want you to do my work for me. I've got to come up with a plan for bettering the Underground and whatever I decide to make my plan has got to come from me. When it does, before I propose it to the Triumvirate, I want your opinion, but until then I have to do this on my own." Proudly, Sarah stood before him, all her work in the crook of one arm, the other hand placed protectively on top.

"Of course," the king said more sweetly this time, smiling at the woman she continued to evolve into, happy for these moments when he could witness it.

In bed, Sarah waited for the king. Normally he was by her side at 10:30, sometimes earlier if he had romantic plans for them. But this night it was nearly quarter past eleven and no Jareth. She riffled through the questionnaires she'd completed earlier, but found it difficult to concentrate as she debated between his being angry at her for disappearing and his being hurt by her not sharing her research with him. By 11:40 she'd had enough. Her feet fell into the slippers waiting at her bedside and she wrapped inside a robe, determined to find the man she should have had to look no further than the next pillow for.

Down the hall she went, descended the stairs and walked to the kitchen, figuring he may be snacking since she was informed at dinner it had been the king's first meal of the day. No Jareth. Perhaps the training room for a late night work-out. No Jareth. The music room, tapping out some haunting melody. No Jareth. The office for a bit of last minute work, one of the sitting rooms for a brandy, perhaps the terrace taking in the clear night sky, but she found him in none of those locales. Back to the bedroom, Sarah plodded, mad thoughts running loose in her mind. They had just begun to embark on what promised to be an exciting life, a warm and affectionate love. Terror swept over her when she thought she might have lost him again. The door to their chamber flew open and there was no one inside to greet her. Tears ran like torrents from her eyes as she began to cry.

Between sobs, she heard the faint pang of guitar strings through the open window. Rushing to the sill she nearly toppled out, there was indeed music in the air. Running back to the terrace Sarah threw open the French doors and stepped outside. Her eyes looked over the edge and below she could see the Goblin King strumming away, familiar words leaving his lips as his music filled the space between them. "I'll place the stars within your eyes."

"Jareth," she called, unable to choke back her tears.

Elegantly his hands let loose the crooning instrument as he stepped away from and around it. The piece levitated in the air, strings continued to vibrate, the melody to play as if he had never stopped strumming. "Jump," he told her. "Go on and jump, I'll catch you." Hesitantly she grabbed the rail, "You trust me don't you?" Without thinking she threw her leg over the rail and perched on the edge, bringing the remaining leg around with its mate.

'It was only the second story,' she reasoned as she looked down into his waiting arms briefly, before shoving off the terrace and letting herself fall. At first it was rushed, the wind whipping her hair, making it sting her face as her weight cut through the air, but then rather quickly it changed. The wind grew warm and gentle, delicately turning her so she was no longer splayed face down, but turned onto her back, a slight curve at her knees and another at her hips.

Falling had turned to floating as Jareth voice rose above the rushing air, "I'll be there for you as the world falls down." As if on cue, she settled into his arms, her hands reaching instinctively to go around his neck. She clung to him, feeling his hair caress her shoulder as he bent to nuzzle her neck. "Are you crying?" he asked when his lips met moisture on her cheeks.

Not wishing to tell him what she had actually been thinking and what those thoughts had caused her to do, Sarah replied, "I guess falling from two stories up is a bit more amazing than I originally thought.

"And do you cry each time you are amazed?" he asked skeptically.

"Were that I did, I would cry each time I looked at you," Sarah answered. Setting her feet on the cobblestones, Jareth leaned to kiss her, his mouth hung open just a fraction from hers, their breath meeting and exchanging as they barely touched causing their connection to spark with electricity. For a long collection of moments the kiss went on deepening as it did. When at last they separated, Sarah finally noticed what Jareth had been at while he was missing from their bed. All around her, his garden was alight with tiny fairies, a wrought iron table and chairs placed in the path of the moon's light. The guitar not the only instrument come alive with no maestro to work it. "What is all this?" she asked, pleased by what she saw.

"Sarah, my love," Jareth took her by the hand and led her to one of the chairs. It was then she noticed the bucket of champagne on the table and the two flutes. "The other evening you expressed to me some concern as to our love lives becoming patterned and boring." His black gloves blending in the neck of the bottle as he filled their glasses. Bent before her, the king offered her the drink, "I should not want our lives to become any more boring or ordinary outside the bed chamber. It would please me to think I could keep you surprised for all eternity."

There was such truth in his eyes, such conviction. He wasn't trying to court her, to woo her, to get her to give him his way. In sincere a way as he had when he offered her dreams to her, Jareth pledged this to her now. Even in the most extraordinary place in existence, he would find ways to make their world, their lives, even more extraordinary. If ever she believed a man existed who could do just that, it was this man.

The night around them seemed perpetually warm and the fairies which danced about giving them light never grew tired, not even as the two found themselves reaching the bottom of the champagne bottle. Jareth took the glass from her hand and lifted her against his chest. His free arm slid around her waist as he began to dance with her among the flowers. Turn after turn, he spun his mortal, her thin silk robe feeling more and more like a full, shimmering ball gown. Leaving go of her hand, Jareth slid his glove up her arm, filling his fingers with her rich black hair. "Do you still love me?" he asked.

"What a silly thing to ask."

"Not the answer I was looking for."

"Jareth, what's got you asking me such foolish things, on such a perfect night as you've devised?"

'Listen to her,' he thought as she spoke to him. 'Not here a couple of months and already speaking like she had been all her days.' But, then she was an actress. "Such great lengths you take to avoid my question, that it makes me wonder all the more."

Sarah took his face into her hands, covering it with soft, quick kisses. "I do still love you, as much as I did the first time I told you, perhaps more."

"And it is still your wish to remain here, in my world, by my side?"

"Yes, Jareth, yes," she said devoutly as her face burrowed into his neck, her breath making his spine tingle. "Every moment of the day when I can't touch you, can't feel your body pressed to mine is agony."

He remained stiff, unwavering as her hands gathered his shirt front to either side of the opening which revealed his pale chest and with a quick tug tore it open to his waist, allowing her hands to roam inside. "It's been two full days now since we've gotten the letter from the Triumvirate Sarah." She kissed over his exposed skin, "Only twelve days remain and we've four signatures to obtain. If you love me as you say you do, you'll leave with me tomorrow and all this research you're hiding behind can wait until we get back."

"Give me one more day," Sarah pleaded.

A great sigh came from the king, "For what?"

"To finish what I've begun and to prepare to see them again." Stepping back, she held his hands, "One more day and," she added raising an eyebrow, "one more night."

Helpless to the power she held over him, Jareth followed her out of the garden, over the patio and into the music room. Sarah used her magic to light the torches on the wall. In the corner, Jareth's harp played, the strings plucked by invisible fingers. With a gentle shove, the mortal sat the king, backward at his piano bench, "What are you doing?" he asked with a knowing smirk.

Standing a yard away, Sarah began to undo the tie on her robe. Salmon colored silk pooled on the sterile white floor, revealing the chemise she wore beneath. The straps, spaghetti thin and the bodice fitting to her voluptuous upper body. A ribbon of embroidery dividing the fluent fabric from the sheer skirt which though less pliable, was opaque enough for Jareth to appreciate the outline of her waist and the sway of he hips as she strode toward him, "Proving I love you."

"Making love is not proving love," he pointed out as she neared him, gathering her skirt in her hands.

"Not normally, but tell me, tell me when we're together, you don't know we were meant for one another? You can't. Because you know the same thing I know. This is more than love, it is completion. When two people love as deeply as this, making love is the natural way of showing it."

'If only you knew how deeply I feel it,' he thought as he removed his gloves using his magic to free himself of his remaining constraints, in time for her to slip her thighs over his, as she sat facing him in his lap. Cupping the king's face, she lifted his lips to her own, kissing him long and deep, attempting to convey all of her emotions in that solitary action. As the Goblin King leaned against the key guard of the piano accepting her advance, he folded one arm around her waist, the free hand spinning a pyramid of crystals in the palm. Tipping the spheres toward the floor, they rolled out of his hand and tinkled as they made contact with the marble tiles. When their ballad stopped a handsome array of pillows heaped on the floor at the foot of the stool. Jareth's second hand slipped over Sarah's hip and guided her gently to the cushions below. Sighing, she stretched out her arms feeling the different swatches of silk, velvet, leather and chenille which enveloped her. The king's tender hands slid beneath the hem of her gown, revealing her glory for his eyes to drink in. Sarah's skin was as alive with sensation from the combination of rich fabrics that caressed her, as her body was alive with her lover's touch. The melody of their satisfaction sang in tune with enchanted chorus Jareth's magic had arranged.

When morning's light revealed itself, Jareth and Sarah were wound safely together in the nest of pillows they'd used as a bed, a sleek sable throw for their cover. The king looked down lovingly at the mortal in his arms. He knew from the amount of light in the music room there was little time to get them back to their chamber before Arulan arrived with their breakfast. It crossed his mind to wake her and then the thought fled, for to disturb something so perfect was like clouding the sky with soot. Rather than that, he used his magic to transport them to bed, bringing with them the sable throw, so when Sarah finally did wake, she would have a reminder of the evening they had shared. Slipping out from beneath her, Jareth continued to let her doze as he dressed. When he was looking just so, as usual, he left their chamber, his love still lost to dream.

He stopped in the kitchen first to grab a pastry and some juice and to notify Arulan that Sarah was still sleeping and it might be a good idea to bring breakfast to her a bit later. "Mercy," the elf cried out when he told her, "she isn't unwell again is she?"

"Not at all," he told her a telltale grin manipulating his mouth. "Tired. These last few days have been much for her to digest and having to return Aboveground is an entirely new pressure she's not come to terms with. The Supreme One knows I'm not thrilled with having to face Leanan Sidhe, not after all these years."

"And hers is the only permission they're requiring of you?" Arulan asked, her voice quivering with tears her stubborn jaw refused to allow her eyes to cry.

Jareth took her beneath his arm, "Perhaps they knew, as I know, that your permission was to obvious to insult by putting on paper, mother." The elf stopped all she was busily doing in the kitchen at his remark. "Would it please you if I were to call you mother?" he asked at her uncertain look.

"Please me? It would elate me. I would sprout wings from joy," she admitted. The large smile which crossed her thin pink lips gave way to a stiff look, not stern, but merely rigid with seriousness. "But Jareth, you have a mother and I ought not be accepting that title."

"But you..." the king began to object.

"But I nothing," Arulan insisted. "What I did, I did because it was an order from my queen. I cared for her child, as I would have done regardless of the level of involvement she chose to have with you. She was still your mother Jareth and she loved you in her own way."

"So," he said hurt by her words, "you never thought of me as your son?"

"Indeed, I have from the first time I held you I thought, 'Woe that he were mine.' What's more I put everything I had into raising you. You were just like my own and there are no words for what I feel to know you too, think of me as your own mother. You know as well as I do words have a profound effect here and so to call me mother would be inappropriate."

"And to call you one who is as my mother would be ineffective," he chided.

Arulan handed him his pastry and kissed his cheek, "Then you shall call me as you always have and on occasion, such as this one, you may remind me of your feelings." Jareth smiled back at her, his heart lifted by their mutual understanding. Arulan, touched by his sentiments, pleased at his new relationship with Sarah and moved by her own longings, failed to resist the temptation to reach for his golden locks and rustle them just a bit as she had done when he was much younger and several feet shorter.

As he had then, Jareth scorned the woman with his eyes and set about restoring his hair in it's elaborate mane. Before he left the kitchen he told her he would be in the sitting room closest to his office if anyone were looking for him, but if it was Sarah who came looking, she should be asked to wait for him in his office until he came for her. Arulan agreed to his odd, yet detailed request. He was particularly cheerful with Sarah returned to him, she even thought she saw an uncharacteristic spring in his step as he danced away.

Opening the door to the sitting room he had described, Jareth raised his finger to his chin and looked about thoughtfully. The walls were cream colored with a high mahogany chair rail topped in a fine fabric border. Crown molding helped the ceiling blend into the tops of the walls. The sitting area had room for three and while there would be no way to tier the floors as they were in his own office, it would be easy to rearrange the wing back chairs to create a natural division. Jareth set about reorganizing what there was in the room. Turning the three chairs to semicircle before the fireplace, two small side tables between each one. The drink cart he left by the door. The larger table he moved into the center of the room.

Then for the heavy work. There were no walls to manipulate, no tampering to be done with the foundation of the castle, so he used magic to create a credenza and a desk, which he placed parallel to one another before the window Between the two a high back leather chair on casters. To either side a five shelve book case and around the table, four smaller chairs, all made of the same rich mahogany as the rail with gold trimmed green fabrics to blend with the border.

When it came to decoration, Jareth did very little, there would be time for that. He added a clock, grandfather of course and flirted with the idea of having it set for thirteen hours, but thought better of the idea a moment later. There had been several paintings on the walls, all of which he removed and above the fireplace a crest, which he removed as well. "Books," he said as he gave the room his final survey. His office was one door down on the opposite side of the hall and still strewn across one of the tables there were all the volumes Sarah regularly read during her stay. At first he thought he may just copy them all so she would be left with her own library, but realized quickly this would give him the opportunity to visit her were he to find a certain volume he was looking for not in his collection. Carefully he gathered them up in a delicately balanced heap and carried them back to the room. It took two trips and filled most of the 10 shelves the two book cases offered.

'Something more,' he thought as he sat in the chair and attempted to mentally walk through his typical day. "A letter box," he said first as he imagined himself reaching for the post. "And a desk lamp," he leaned over the desk pretending to write, "for making journal entries." As the king spoke the items he recited appeared in the room, each pristine and coordinated with the overall aura of the room. A mahogany wood box on the corner of the desk, a brass lamp with a stained glass shade. "A journal," each item led to another as he continued to list, "and a quill, an ink well, a blotter, parchment." Sitting back he let out a sigh, "If there's anything else she'll need, I can't think of it."

Mission completed, Jareth joined Deverell in his office, rather pleased with himself. "Good day," he addressed his assistant.

"Good day, your majesty," he replied. "Have you spoken with the lady Sarah about making those arrangements to go Aboveground."

Nothing like ruining a perfectly wonderful moment with stark reality. "I have, and I have agreed to give her today to finish some elaborate research project she has begun. We will leave tomorrow and stay gone no more than ten day's time. And you, have you made the necessary provisions for our trip?"

"For as much as I can anticipate what you might encounter while you're there. I've had Arulan pack clothes for the both of you and the leather man has crafted two fine suitcases I'm sure will pass any mortal inspection. Lastly, I traded in some of your diamonds for currency. I still don't see why they won't let you use your magic."

Jareth shrugged, "That makes two of us. I suppose they're afraid I would use it to coerce Sarah's parents into giving us their consent."

"And you couldn't as easily do that with money?" Deverell questioned, knowing what little he knew of mortals, was still enough to see they were slaves to their currency.

"It can be done." Curiosity ruled his look as inquired, "Exactly how much mortal currency have you arranged for us?"

Deverell drummed his fingers on the desk, "Well, I wanted you to have enough to eat and to purchase a bed for each night. Then I got to thinking, if there is something I've forgotten, some unpredictable incidental for which none of us has accounted, I wanted you to be able to suffice."

"How much?" Jareth asked more solidly.

"Seventy hundreds," he admitted.

The king's mouth hung, "Seven thousand dollars? For one ten day's stay?" He laughed that it might relieve some of the tension flooding his assistant's face. "Why on that kind of money, we shall stay at five star hotels and dine on room service."

"Your majesty, I was only trying to be considerate. The trader said the mortal world could be expensive, especially the lands of New York."

"The trader doesn't get much business these days. Sounds as if he may have been happier to see you than you were to stumble upon him." In time Deverell would come to learn that not every service provider in the Underground was honest. "It's sufficient Deverell," he commented refocusing on the topic at hand. "What you've procured for us will allow us to live nicely while we're not in our home. Although, I don't think we need to worry about anyone being bribed for such an amount. The more you deal with mortals, especially the kind capable of wishing away their children or abandoning them, the more you shall come to see their greed would only make them scoff at such a nominal fee."

"'Tis a fact I hope I never need to learn," the young fey admitted, wagging his head from side to side.

"Were it a fact I could keep from you," Jareth told him.

Neither of them heard the door open and close, but it was Sarah's voice clear as a bell which asked, "And what fact is it you've such trouble hiding?"

His arms wound around her. "My love for you milady," he said with a grin. "Such a fact is one I could never hide." The king brushed her lips in a tender kiss. "Deverell," Jareth called over his shoulder, never wavering his glance from Sarah's bright green eyes, "I've something to show milady. Do you require my attention for anything further?"

"Even if I did, it does not take a wiseman to see yours is already otherwise occupied," he noted. "Go on you two, tend to this business of yours and leave the worry to me, it is after all that which I am unpaid for."

Jareth smiled as he led his love to the door. In Deverell he had chosen wisely. "And where were you when I woke up this morning?" she asked him.

"You'll see," he winked. "You'll see and I think you'll agree it was worth us having to be apart." As the door closed behind them, Deverell grinned. He wondered many times over if he would ever find true love. In Burrgraff, they still used antiquated concepts like prearranged marriage, but now he was a citizen of the Underground, and as he was coming to learn, not only were things not always as they seemed, but anything was possible.

Before the door to what was now Sarah's office, Jareth stood with his arm around his love, neither of them moving to turn the knob and peer inside. "Have you brought me here to see this door?" she asked. "Because it is a fine door, a door worthy of much admiration, but nothing so great to make it worth my not finding you beside me as morning met my eyes."

"Not impressed with my door, you say. In that case," he grasped the knob, turning it fully to the left, "I will have to hope you are better impressed with what lies inside." He swung open the door and stepped in first so he could watch her reaction as it happened.

When first she crossed the threshold, she saw a sitting room, like any other in the castle, barring the color of the wood and the fabric on the walls. It was a bit more grand than the others, larger, with a fireplace, but not until she stepped completely inside, sweeping her eyes over the full scope of the room, did she realize what it was he had done. The desk and all it's perfect amenities, the credenza, the book cases. Upon closer inspection, as she read over the spines of the books which filled the shelves, Sarah saw he'd gathered up all of her research, save what was still in their chambers. Her eyes lit like a child on Christmas morning, as if she had only just descended the stairs and taken in the wonder of the holiday.

"You did all this for me?" Sarah asked stunned.

"And I would do this and more ten times over for you. I would do all that you asked and require only your love in return," as he fell to one bent knee, the king pledged his servitude. Sarah remained rigid and silent. As he stood Jareth slipped his arms about her waist and donned a look of concern.

On tiptoe she reached to kiss his lips, "My love," she added, "comes at no cost to you, no monetary fee, no feudatory craftsmanship, only that you hold it in your heart as delicately as you hold me in your arms."

"Always," he promised her. "So, you like it?" Jareth asked as he pointed out to her the smaller things, adding, "I've left the decorating to you. Nothing in here really suited you anyway."

"I love it," she gushed. "Love it and love you for doing it. I'm going to get my notes from yesterday and make good use of the space you've given me." That look of childlike innocence still bathed her face as she went running upstairs.

"I'll have Arulan send Hoggle to your office when he brings your paperwork this afternoon," he called as she flitted off.

"My office...my office," he overheard her sing between chuckles.

"Speaking of which, I'll be in my office if you need me." Still distracted by her new office, Sarah called back an OK and merrily continued on her way.

After a few revolutions in the high back leather chair, Sarah sat still, waiting for the lovely dizziness to fade. By the time Arulan led Hoggle to her door, she'd managed to get through more than half of the responses to the survey she had crafted. Many of the answers were individual specific, but there were certain things upon which many of them agreed: They all felt a desire to be loyal to their king, as opposed to an obligation and they all wished they were looked at more kindly and less like gruesome, evil little creatures.

"Made you yer own office, did he?" the dwarf noted as he entered.

"Come in," Sarah greeted him, moving to sit with him nearer to the fireplace.

Hoggle worked his way into one of the seats, "Tryin' to make up for the fact you was asleep through Christmas?"

The thought had not occurred to her until now. The year was coming to its end, she certainly had no recollection of having celebrated the holiday. "I slept through Christmas," she repeated. "Sounds like the title of an incredibly sad work of nonfiction, doesn't it?"

"Suppose it does." His small hands thrust the papers at her, "Here you are. All you asked me and Mason for. Don't know what your planning to do but I made you a promise and I keeps my promises."

"Are you upset with me?" she asked at his shortness.

"Am not," he huffed. "Just don't think you oughtta be doin' all this. Jumpin' at their beck and call, when yer not even subject to their laws. Riskin' everythin' by goin' Aboveground. Ain't right is all."

Eyeing him she surmised his objections were somewhat more than general. "Hoggle are you afraid I won't come back if I go Aboveground?"

"Ain't afraid of nothin'," the dwarf denied, avoiding her critical stare. Reaching for him she promised, "Hoggle, I'm going Aboveground to ensure when I do become a member of this community, my citizenship is permanent. I could never leave you, no more than I could leave Jareth. I love you Hoggle."

"No need to go butterin' me up," he hesitated, hopping down out of the chair and heading to the door. "But, I'm glad to hear you say so," the dwarf admitted quickly before he left. Outside in the hall he wiped away a stray tear or two before exiting the castle.

When he was gone, Sarah read what he had written in the survey she provided him. Under the heading, What is the worst thing about living in the Underground, her small friend had painstakingly scribed as neatly as his fat fingers could, the following reply:

The worst thing 'bout livin' in the Underground is yer always getting called by terrible names; horrible, stupid, coward, repulsive little scab, just cause you ain't pretty lookin' like fairies is. Ain't right neither, cause all them pretty things everyone's fusing over are mean and nasty and some of the goblins and less attractive things gets a bad reputation. Maybe, if we was, I dunno, if folks thought we wasn't so repulsive, horrible and stupid, if they knew we was more than trolls what steals their children in the middle of the night kind of cowards, maybe then mortals wouldn't hates us so much. Then my little girl could grow up somes place where individuals were accepted for who they was and not what they was.

Tears filled her eyes as she recalled, it had been her to call him a coward. In hindsight, she had been one of those people, one of the ones who saw the pretty fairies as good and the disgusting goblins as bad, but the time she spent with them, proved them to be more and allowed her to see from his side now. As she thought about the friendship she had found here, Sarah began to think what a pioneering relationship it was indeed. Mortal and dwarf, human and mythical, and yet they shared in a bond, both frowned upon by those in the know, stuck in their more primitive ways, those who hated what she was. There were few who had come to know her and crossed the gap between what they knew to what they felt, but in his message Sarah saw a greater task. She saw her plan to change the Underground. If she were able to change the mortals' minds about what the mythicals were and vice versa, that would be a change Underground. One of enough significance, one for good, one even the Triumvirate couldn't deny.

Quill in hand, Sarah worked furiously to complete the scroll the Triumvirate had sent. Her idea, to change Jareth from a king who stole carelessly wished away children in the night to a fey who rescued mistreated and neglected children. A simple matter of reprogramming the circumstances by which a child was sent Underground. Once the children were there, rather than having the mortals run the Labyrinth to get them back, they would be housed until such time as suitable parents wished for a child they could not have. Of course there would be wrinkles to iron out, but that would come in time. For now, she had devised an indisputable plan which would so greatly improve mortal/mythical relations, the Gavel himself couldn't refuse giving it a try. Sarah rolled the scroll back up and left her office to find Jareth. She found him with Deverell, inspecting the luggage which had been handcrafted for their trip.

"Jareth," she called swinging open his office door. "Oh," she said when she realized she had interrupted them, "I'm sorry. This can wait. The two of you finish up."

The king's voice halted her hasty get away, "Sarah, what have you got there?"

Doing her best to hide the scroll behind her back, she lied, "Nothing. Really, it can wait."

"Come milady, have a look at what's been made for your trip," Deverell suggested.

Smoothing her hand over the soft, nearly seamless leather, Sarah found herself impressed with the craftsmanship. "Luggage?" she half asked.

"Aye, it would be terribly obvious if you were to arrive with some great trunk or weathered satchel bag." Deverell explained, "I've had a leather man craft these to fit a description his majesty had given me."

Looking up at Jareth, Sarah's eyes wrinkled in confusion, "Why not just rely on our magic?"

"Because, love, they'll not let us have our magic Aboveground. We'll have to blend in as much as possible, as not only may our normal ways and appearances draw unwanted attention, but it stands only to complicate our achieving your parents' approval."

"Your appearance?" she asked. "You mean your going to become Jeremy again?"

"I had rather thought shorter hair and a nice suit would please your parents."

"Please my parents! I don't give a shit what pleases my parents!" The fine tongue she had developed while living Underground seemed to disappear when she was angry. Coming close to him, her arms rested on his chest, her fingers twirling the ends of his hair. "I love the fey you are, Jareth. Just like this," she added steering her hands over his elegant garments. "I bring my parents a king for their approval. What mother doesn't want their daughter to be queen? What father has not always thought his child a princess?"

Despite the valid point she made, "But Sarah, to be Aboveground for so many days, and without magic, it will be too difficult to maneuver about like this." He saw disappointment in her eyes when she looked at him. "A spell then, I shall see about a spell, one which I could have placed, just before we leave, so regardless of how I appear to the other mortals, you and your parents shall always see me as I appear now. Will this compromise please you?"

Sarah's lips met his in approval. Breaking the kiss, she handed him the scroll she had written, "Does this compromise please you?"

As Jareth read the scroll, Deverell watched in awe of the way his majesty managed the girl and amazed at how she managed herself. It was as if this world was always meant for her and her being mortal had been some mistake, a flaw in her design, a disease she battled to defeat. Not so far from truth, his thoughts, for Sarah returning home and living a mortal life was something which could never happen, not after all she had known in this realm. To lose now, to return Underground without her parents' consents, to fail to prove to the Triumvirate her worth, would be to sentence her to mortal death. Though Deverell had never had a king to serve, he found himself proud to serve Jareth and he thought he would find that same pride serving Sarah as queen. When Jareth finished with the scroll, he passed the parchment to his assistant, "Here Deverell, read the new law of the Underground. Read the law my queen has written." No sooner had the parchment left his fingers, did Sarah find herself secure in his grip and flying above his smile. "You, you have found words to describe the kind of man I have always wanted to be." He brought her to the ground and held her close against him, "No more being looked at as something evil, something fearsome. At last, I could make children's lives better. I would be a Robin Hood among the fey and I would owe it all to you."

"And give up being the arrogant intimidator you've worked so hard to become?" Sarah asked.

"A reputation I've tried to embrace and outrun," he admitted sadly. "Especially these last fifteen years while all I've been able to think is, had I been a different fey then, perhaps the spirited young girl I had fallen in love with wouldn't have been so eager to flee my company."

With remorse for her quick query, Sarah nuzzled his neck with her forehead, "Even if you had been as perfect emotionally as you were physically, I was still too young to comprehend true love. Even now I'm only beginning to learn what it can be when it exists between two people who respect one another." Slowly their lips joined having sought the other out by some unseen magnetism which drew them out from hiding. His lips folded over her bottom lip as he tried to make their contact last.

Clearing his throat, the king's assistant gave his opinion of the scroll. "I could do some research on your theory while you are away, miss, if you'd like. Explore the feasibility of reprogramming the commands and so forth. It would be my pleasure."

"I think that would be fine. Sarah, is this offer suitable to you." She agreed.

Deverell rolled the scroll into his palm, "May I keep this?"

"Indeed," she consented.

Jareth's thumb and forefinger pinched Sarah's chin, "And now love I'm afraid we need to prepare for our trip."

"We're leaving tonight?"

"No, but once we've had dinner there are other _things_ we need to tend to." His hand suggestively rubbed her bottom where Deverell wouldn't see.

In all her mornings Underground, Sarah had found herself awoken by the sun, sometimes sleeping through daybreak, at times sleeping away entire days without even realizing it. Staring out the window, she couldn't help but notice how black night was in this place. So unlike New York, where the lights barely dimmed when evening gave way to the wee hours of the night, the Underground had no neon signs, no street lights, nothing but fire fairies running about here or there and the milky white moon to enhance the atmosphere. Jareth's arm hung over her waist, the heat of his body a sharp contrast to the void she seemed hypnotized by, so sharp in fact, she drew in a fast breath. Suddenly she felt as if there were a weight on her chest, a heaviness which made it hard to breath. Repeatedly Sarah filled her lungs in a vain attempt to throw free the unseen encumbrance.

Her fingers interlaced with the king's as tears drizzled from her eyes. His bare fingers, his naked hands, the same ones which had caressed her in their love making only hours earlier, stimulating her skin while he aroused her senses and yet, when she imagined going home, not even those hands could calm her quickened pulse. Sarah thought about leaving the bed and going to see what time it was, but it didn't matter much if day break was minutes or hours away, it was coming with an inevitability which rattled her. Needless to say, she was not looking forward to going Aboveground, to being forced into seeing Karen and her mother. She'd been through all this with her parents before, trying to convince them the Underground and its inhabitants were something more than a clever story created by a frustrated little girl who wished nothing more in the world than to see her parents back together.

Jareth sighed in his sleep, a burst of warm air coating Sarah's neck and cutting short her feelings of dread. Spinning in his arms, she turned to face him. He was attractive when he was awake, but when he slept he was resplendent. There was a peace easing all the muscles in his face, making his eyelids seem like a veil which fell lightly to hide his eyes and could have been swept away with the easiest breeze. His lips rested still, one a top the other, curled in a crooked smile. Her fingers danced playful at his pale chest and rounded shoulders as she wondered what he was dreaming. 'How had she resisted him so long?' she thought as she studied him. 'More importantly why?" Coming Underground would have freed her from years of people who disregarded her feelings when they could be bothered to consider her at all. Saved her from meeting Christian, changed her in ways she couldn't even imagine. 'Could have, would have, should have,' she told herself as she tossed away her regrets. They had each other now. Her hands could touch him, her eyes see him and as Sarah lowered her lips to his, pressing hard against them, forcing him out of his slumber, she tasted him and smelled the magic which perpetually surrounded him. Jareth was finally hers and she was finally of mind to appreciate him. She had faced the Triumvirate, fallen prey to Tiberon and felt Darien's cold blade, but returning home was a different kind of terror, one she wasn't sure she could survive, but with her king by her side, Sarah knew she could try.

"Sarah," Jareth said as he relinquished his hold on sleep, "you're shaking. Are you cold?" Without waiting for a response, he pulled the duvet tighter around her and drew her into his arms.

"I'm not cold," she told him.

"You're crying," he noticed as she lay her face against his chest.

"So I am," she agreed, only now becoming aware of the fact herself. "I suppose I'm just overwhelmed at the idea of telling my father tomorrow that I intend to become a queen, your queen."

"I'm sorry this authorization is a requirement Sarah, but you must understand..."

Her finger fell over his lips, hushing him. The king puckered his lips and kissed her tender skin. "Whatever they ask of me, I will do," she confessed. "Whatever I must do to stay with you."

Jareth kissed her reassuringly, as if he could somehow extract her fears as he did so. The fear in her heart would be drown by his love, the same way her body would soon drown in his passion. Sarah could feel the heat of him against her as her own wetness began to saturate her from within. It was the same each time he took her, all thoughts of dread and failure vanished. Nothing seemed right but their being together and even fate, cruel as it could sometimes be, wouldn't take that away. It wouldn't be fair.

Their love making had been chaotic, as Jareth pushed his body to the limit in an attempt to make the night last, to delay the morning his mortal feared so much. Sarah clung to him, struggling to keep up with his frantic pace as eager as he was to outrun their obligations but at the same time he took her to heights she feared she would never return from. One might imagine then, the impact they shared when the sun had the audacity to rise anyway.

"Would you like breakfast before we go?" he asked the still half sleeping woman in his arms.

Sarah ground at her eyes with her small fists, "No," she grumbled. "As it is my stomach's tied in knots. I'd hate to think of how I might feel if I tried feeding it."

"At least a glass of milk or juice," Arulan said as she barged in with their trays. "Have something."

"Really," she tried politely. "I can't the stand the thought of anything in my stomach right now. Perhaps when we get Aboveground I'll get some coffee." It had been a long time since she'd tasted what had once been a meal all in itself for her.

The elf wore a look of worry in her eyes, one which grew even deeper when Jareth refused his meal as well. "I think we're rather eager to get going," he explained. "Would you be so kind as to have our things assembled in the main hall?"

"Already done," the elf told him. "I'm to notify the others before you leave. They would like to see you off." Arulan looked quickly from Jareth to Sarah and back again, hurriedly she left the room. Something in the way they both looked at her told Arulan they would be leaving immediately.

Sarah left the bed and quickly chose a dress from her wardrobe while Jareth used his magic to dress himself appropriately. "Suppose I won't be doing that much the next few days," he chided.

Sarah smiled. The list of things he was willing to give up for her seemed to grow exponentially at every turn. "Suppose not," she agreed. It would be an adventure of sorts, watching him without his magic. The night he followed her to her apartment, the night their lips had first joined, he had been without his magic then. As Jareth waited for her to join him so as they may make their rounds with the rest of the staff before they left, Sarah relived the night he'd come for her.

She had just gotten the part of Eponine. He was masquerading as Jeremy Underwood. All these months later, Sarah could laugh at the sheer idiocy of not realizing it was him based on that alone. She was glad he had chosen to remain himself, at least to her and, at her request, Sarah's parents. Jeremy was dashing in his own right, but taming those feral locks and drabbing into something Armani, made him common to her then. Common until his lips covered hers and his hands begun a manipulation of her body so savvy she'd have needed a piece of the sky to crash upon her head before she'd realized she'd been seduced. Jeremy melted away all the same as she had melted for him. When she thought of how easily she let him have his way, it made her tingle. "Don't forget the spell Jareth," Sarah reminded him.

"Indeed," he said making a sweeping motion over his body. Nothing changed when she looked at him, but in his reflection she didn't see Jareth King of the Goblins, she saw that hateful mortal replica which seemed to diminish him. The mirror showed a hand reaching for her, "Shall we?" that mortal face inquired.

Before responding, Sarah looked back to the finely decorated eyes of the king, "Indeed," she smiled.

Circled around the luggage Deverell took it upon himself to have made, they stood awaiting their king and his mortal. No one was happy they were being made to leave, but since Jareth and Sarah weren't happy about it themselves little criticism could be made by the others in the castle. Jareth shook the hands offered to him and Sarah embraced them one by one. When Dalkeil's turn came to take her into his arms, he whispered almost silently into her hair, "I will be proud to serve you as my queen." She squeezed him tighter after that.

At nearly the same moment, Arulan was curtsied before Jareth, who took her by the hand and then folded his arms about her. He could feel her tears on his neck, "No matter whose obligation it is to give you consent know that I think of her as my daughter nearly as much as I think of you as my son." His glove smoothed her coiffed blonde hair.

"We appreciate the send off," he announced when he saw Sarah's quaking lip. "I think I speak for both of us when I say we respect what the Triumvirate is making us do because it is tradition, but your approval of our union is a far cry more meaningful than the consent of persons we've long since learned to live without." Sarah took his arm and nodded as if to confirm she agreed with what had been said. With the arms not joined together, they each hoisted a suitcase from the cold marble floor. "We shall be back before you've time to miss us," Jareth said before curving his hand and causing them to vanish.

"Impossible," Arulan cried as she leaned into Deverell's shoulder and let her tears begin to fall.

What had once seemed a large and expansive front porch, appeared to have shrunk over the years as Sarah stood at the door to her childhood home, her arm still threaded through the king's. Instantly she sank back in time, becoming once more the same unsure teenager she had been the last time they were both in this house together. Jareth could see her almost visibly regressing into adolescence. He squeezed her hand, whispering to her, "You are a strong confident woman who has been to and survived battle Sarah, this is little challenge by comparison."

"Could you remind me of that every few seconds until this is over with?" she asked as his pointer finger reached for the doorbell. His jagged teeth flashed at her from behind his wicked smile and suddenly she was sure she was this woman he spoke of.

Karen came to the door, her half inch pearls hanging two inches below the scoop neckline of her pink dress, her hair meticulously pinned to her head. "Yes, can I help you?" she inquired looking primarily at the king, Sarah, much as she had the years they shared the house, escaped her radar.

"Karen," she said to her step-mother in a firm tone forcing her to look away from Jareth. "Is my father home?"

"Sarah?" the woman asked, her mouth agape. "I...I didn't even recognize you," she tried to rationalize her overlooking the girl. "You're wearing a dress, with no jeans underneath and you're hair, it's so..."

"Is my father home?" In her teen years, this woman at the door, in her just so clothes, with her just so expectations of everyone around her had intimidated her, angered her, but at thirty, she disgusted her. As much as magic had allowed her to continue seeing Jareth as he was, maturity had allowed her to do the same with Karen.

Stepping aside, the lady of the house instructed them, "Well, don't just stand there come inside."

Jareth's gloved hand met the small of his love's back and gently guided her through the door. Karen watched him closely as he crossed the threshold to her home. "Robert," she called up the stairs.

"What is it?" he called back, in a hasty manner Sarah was not accustom to hearing when her father was talking with his wife.

Smirking as if his tone had no effect on her and in a saccharin sweet voice, she replied, "It's your daughter, darling, and she's brought one of her little theatrical friends with her."

"Madame," Jareth addressed his hostess, "I'm neither little nor theatrical, I assure you." Though she was certain he had meant little as a reference to his age, Sarah couldn't resist snickering at what he'd said.

"Sarah!" Robert shouted from upstairs. Halfway down the flight, he bent to see her standing there, Sarah," he repeated.

"Hello, daddy," Sarah replied in a softer more gentle voice than she had used with Karen.

Taking the remaining steps two at a time, he ran to her, sweeping her up in his arms, ignorant to the fact a king stood in his living room. "Sweetie, what are you doing here? With a suitcase? You were going to England last I heard. Not that I'm not happy to see you, I just wasn't expecting to...look at you, such a beautiful daughter, I have."

Sarah wanted to attack him just as she had Karen, but instead she found herself choking back tears, half because he had called her beautiful and the other half because it had taken him until now to notice. "Daddy, I never went to England."

"I'm not surprised," Karen sighed heavily. "You probably met this fool and went touring with him the same way your mother did."

"I have been patient with you," Jareth said, his cold mismatched eyes narrowing on the woman, "but I'm afraid, should you find yourself unable to allow this woman to speak to her father without interrupting, I may lose that patience." Karen's mouth hung open, her eyes wide with fear. "After all, it is a rude thing to cast aspersions upon one's character, is it not?" His eyebrow rose, his stiff chin telling Karen her own character was not without flaw.

"Why not have a seat then," she said shakily, leading them into the living room, eager to leave the reach of the king.

"Wonderful idea," Robert beamed. "Sarah and I'm sorry, I don't believe I heard your name."

"This is Jareth, daddy." Sarah waited for Karen to comment again, but she did not.

Extending his palm, the king shook Robert's hand, "Pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Williams."

"Call me Bob," he suggested. "Well why don't you and Sarah join me in the living room and my wife will bring us some tea." Karen looked at him coldly and then noticing Jareth's keen observation of her and left to make the tea. Sarah sat on a colonial blue loveseat with her father, they were turned in facing one another, their eyes speaking more than they themselves could. Behind her, Jareth sat quietly in a cream colored wing back chair, accented by a throw with hints of the same colonial blue as the loveseat running through it. "I still can't believe you're here."

Somberly Sarah reminded him, "You haven't so much as phoned me in over a year."

Robert's head hung, his chin dug into his chest, knowing she was right, worse still knowing he was wrong to have done it. "I won't make excuses. You know as well as I do why that is and I've come to realize recently how wrong it was. She's done the same with Toby. When he can be bothered to stay home he hardly speaks to us and Karen's content with that."

"It's not my place to tell you how to behave with your wife daddy, but I'm your daughter and you had an obligation to me."

"And I failed," he moped.

"Failed is a harsh term, let's just agree you have not succeed as I may have hoped."

"You seem none the worse for wear," he tried to smile as he chucked the underside of her chin. When Sarah's face remained downtrodden he added, "Physically anyway. If it helps, I am sorry I wasn't a better father when it mattered most and I would like to try and be a better father now, if you'll let me."

"I'm glad to hear you say that," Sarah told him, "because I need a father now. You see," Sarah glanced up as Karen reentered the room with a tray of iced teas, "I'd like to get married and I need your consent."

"Married!" Robert exclaimed. "Karen, did you hear that? My little girl wants to get married and she wants her old man's blessing. Of course Sarah. You and Christian have waited long enough. When were you thinking? Fall? Or maybe next spring? We can start planning right away."

"Technically," Jareth interrupted, "it won't be a marriage. It will be a union ceremony, but I suppose it's somewhat equivalent to marriage."

"One of those flowery out in the open nonreligious ceremonies? Whatever you want darling, whatever you want." Her father was positively aglow.

"Not to Christian," Sarah said.

"What?" her father asked.

"And I don't want to wait until spring. This ceremony would take place, rather soon."

Karen's hands fell to her hips, "Good Lord Robert she's pregnant. You've gone and gotten yourself in trouble. It's probably his." She remembered the suitcases in the hall, "And if you think you can just move back in here, you've got another think coming. I've got Toby to worry over."

Sarah stood, "And if you worried over him half as much as you proclaim to he wouldn't be the conniving womanizer he is."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Karen practically growled.

"It's not _supposed_ to mean anything. It means there's not a person in your life you know the slightest bit about. Not daddy, not Toby, certainly not me. Most times I wonder if you even know who you are or if you're just so set in this picture perfect image of what you're supposed to be, you're too afraid to trying being who you really are." She'd waited years to say that.

"Robert, are you going to allow her to talk to me that way?"

"Sarah sit down." She sat. "Are you pregnant?"

"No daddy."

"Do you want to come home, sweetie?"

Before she answered Sarah glowered at Karen, "No daddy."

"If I may," Jareth interjected, appalled at the way they were treating her, "It is I who wishes to be united with your daughter. We've not come to ask anything of you but your consent."

"I don't even know this man Sarah," Robert went on as if Jareth hadn't addressed him at all. "Where did you meet? How long have you known one another? Why do you want to marry him?"

"This is the Goblin King," she said, her face turned in a smile for the first time since they'd arrived Aboveground.

"Not this again," Karen said.

"Honey, didn't we talk through all of this when you were a young lady. The Goblin King is a figment of your imagination. Someone you conjured up because you were unhappy your mother had gone and I had remarried. A fantasy you could escape to when you were dissatisfied with reality.

"I'm neither a figment nor a fantasy," Jareth protested. "I am tangible and very real." From the interior pocket of his frock coat he withdrew his birth papers.

Robert took what he offered and fanned his eyes over it. "Born to the current king and queen, Ian the mortal and Leanan Sidhe this male child to be called Jareth all the qualifications to take the throne upon his 75th birthday. And just how old would you have me believe you are?"

"258, next season," Jareth responded matter of factly. Karen burst into laughter.

"Sarah, would you honestly have me believe this is a 257 year old man, whose king of some Underground and wishes to marry you and make you what? Queen?"

"Exactly."

"If you don't want anything further to do with me I can force myself to accept that Sarah, but coming in here with some stranger in costume, telling me you're leaving for some fabled destination rather than just saying so is elaborate, even for you."

"Not to mention childish," Karen added.

"But it's true," Sarah tried to explain. "I will be Goblin Queen, we will live in the Underground and we are going to be united."

"Sarah," Robert's head shook.

"Do something?" she pleaded with Jareth. "Show them one of your crystals."

"I can't love, no magic Aboveground, remember?"

"Did you hear that Robert? He's left his magic at home!" Karen cackled.

Jareth faced her nose to nose, "In my world, women as condescending as yourself often meet vicious and untimely deaths." Maeve being the first to come to mind.

"I won't allow you to come into my home and threaten my wife," Robert told him.

"I wasn't threatening anyone!"

"Yes, you were," Karen balled and the three began a screaming match that even Sarah had trouble following.

"Stop it!" Sarah cried above the ruckus. The trio quieted down and faced her. Calmly she walked to the buffet table and scrawled down the name and number of the hotel they were going to stay at. Then she went to the hall and retrieved the scroll from her suitcase. When she returned she handed them both to her father. "Daddy, I'm going to be with Jareth. All I want from you is your consent. If you love me and you want me to be happy, you'll sign this, regardless of how valid you find my claims. When you have, phone me at this number and I'll come pick the document up."

Robert read the scroll. "This is really too much Sarah. It says I authorize you to unite with the king and that I willfully surrender my parental rights, deny all claim to you and give my express consent for you to be christened a citizen of the Underground." He turned on the king, "What kind of freak are you? What have you done to my daughter?" Protectively he threw his arms about her, "What lies have you told her?"

"None worse than you and your wife have done," he retaliated.

"Jareth you're not helping," Sarah moaned. "We're leaving," she announced as she struggled free from her father's hold. Karen's face lit with a satisfied smile.

Robert moved for the door blocking their leave. "You're not going anywhere with this imposter! You'll stay here, in your room, where you belong."

"Robert!" Karen cried.

"Daddy!" Sarah joined her.

"Not another word," her father said showing backbone for the first time in as long as she could remember. "If you want me to so much as consider this charade of yours, you'll stay here until I can get my arms around this more."

"Robert, are you mad?" Karen asked.

"Probably, or perhaps I'm only finally becoming sane. Look Karen, look at the seal on the bottom of these scrolls. Feel this paper, it's quality parchment, stored in an engraved silver tube. His costume. Sarah's insistence. It would be an elaborate scheme and why? What would the purpose of it be?"

"She's sick Robert! She's been sick since she was a child. It's delusional the way she thinks these things up, Goblin Kings and dwarves and huge hairy beasts. He probably found out about those things and used them to get her to fall in love with him so he could " she ran out of ideas after that.

"So he could what? What Karen? You see, there's no reason. No reason why only summations. She's not asking us for anything, neither is he. I'm asking you for some time to put it together, a couple of days."

"Do what you want Robert. Do what she wants, as you always have, but I don't need a few days." She grabbed the scroll from her husband's hand and flattened it on the hall table. Picking up a pen she signed just above where her name had been printed. "There. As far as I'm concerned having her gone, no right to her, no responsibility for her, is a blessing." That being said, she ran up the stairs to the room they shared and slammed the door behind her.

"Come with me," Robert told them. "I'll show you to your rooms."

"Room daddy. Just take us to my old room. I'm old enough to have a boy in there now," Sarah told him as she followed him up the stairs and down the once familiar hallway.

Once inside, Robert excused himself, most likely to go and coddle Karen. "Not quite the way I remember it," she said to Jareth. The walls were white, the side curtains gone from the head of the bed. None of the decorations remained. Most of those were done away with when she left for New York. In fact nothing but a floral swag above a Victorian painting on one wall remained, even that was not hers. A sewing machine took up the space next to where her dresser once sat and in the open space before the closet, a treadmill.

"Not at all the way I remember it," Jareth agreed.

Sarah sat on her old bed. "If anything I thought we'd be fighting Karen to sign that thing," she said.

"Looks as if just the opposite stands true," he pointed out as he sat next to her, his arm around her shoulders. "So what will we do? How will we prove to your father I am who I say I am?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "It's something just to think he's open minded enough to wonder why we would make up such a lie, it's another thing entirely to think he would believe us, but maybe we don't need him to believe us. Maybe all we need is for him to not be able to think of a reason we'd lie enough to sign the scroll. So don't go giving him any reasons," she told him.

"Me?" he asked in feigned innocence.

"Yes you," she chastised. "Oh Jareth, we've got one signature, only three more to go."

"You say that as casually as I throw around forever," he chided. Something about being together with her on the bed he'd watched her in so many times before aroused him. Leaning in he kissed her. Her first instinct was to shy away. She was, after all, in her parents' home, but then she thought of him all those years ago, standing in the doorway of her parents' rooms. Old fantasies she'd had in her later teens flooded her memory. Offering him her dreams, letting him have her in the most basic sense, there in her parents' bed. Those nights when longing grew too much and fantasy too strong when she was still too young and too afraid of sex, her only release a few moments of self exploration beneath the covers of the bed she shared with him now. She'd learned then to stifle her moans. Suddenly she was eager to utilize the talent she's long since abandoned. Sarah returned his kiss, deepening it, pressing against him until his head lay on her pillow. "They'll be arguing for hours," she said as she left him to lock the door. "Do you think you can manage to keep quiet?" she asked as she approached him once more, lifting her dress as she did so.

"Me?" he asked as if to insinuate he was not the one with the pension for making loud noises. Sarah lips stilled his as she undid his shirt.

"I believe I just asked you to keep quiet," she reiterated.

"Yes your majesty," he whispered before giving into her.

Sunday night came rather quickly, more so than Sarah would have anticipated. Since Friday morning, the king and she had been living with Karen and Robert. Karen kept to being respectful, most likely by Robert's request, but however it was managed didn't matter as much as the fact it had been done. Slowly Sarah's father had begun to enjoy Jareth's company, finding him, as did most, rather charming. As they sat for dinner, Robert leaned across from the head of the table to Jareth, speaking passed his daughter he asked, "What I don't understand is why all this charade for someone who seems rather well off and intelligent?"

"I assure you, sir, there is no charade." He'd said these words a dozen or more times since they'd arrived and he would continue as long as it was necessary.

Dinner was halted by a shout from the hallway, "I'm home."

"Toby?" Sarah asked no one in particular.

"Dinner is on the table son. You're an hour late."

"Yeah, I had car trouble da " Toby found himself slack jawed in the doorway to the dining room as everyone looked on at him. "Holy fuckཀ" he cried out.

"Tobyཀ" Karen chastised.

The teenage boy shook his head. "Stop acting as if you've never seen your sister before," his father said. "Go get a plate and join us. We'll discuss your language later."

As if he were sleepwalking with open eyes, Toby took his seat beside his mother, opposite Jareth. "You're him."

"Oh don't you start," Karen snapped.

"Start what?" Robert asked.

"You took me away that night. You took me back to that castle."

"Toby, do you know this man?" his father asked.

"I thought I dreamt him." Looking at Sarah and then back to the king he continued, "You called him, he came for me. Came as an owl and turned into a a whatever he is."

"Fey," Jareth interrupted.

"Whatever. Sarah had to come and get me. I had that dream so many times over."

Robert put down his utensils and asked his son, "Toby, are you telling me you believe this man is the Goblin King as he claims to be?"

Sarah was on the verge of tears. "You remind me of the babe," Jareth said, looking intently at the young man.

"What babe?" Toby asked, knowing it was the appropriate reply and mechanically offering it as if the king had begun a knock, knock joke.

"The babe with the power."

"What power?"

"The power of voodoo."

"Who do?"

"You do!"

"Do what?"

"Remind me of the babe," he and Jareth said in unison. Almost as soon as they'd spoken their rhyme Karen passed out, lying spread eagle on the floor without so much as drawing the attention of anyone else at the table.

"Holy fuck!" Robert heralded his son's earlier remark.

"I can't believe he's real Sarah," Toby said.

There he sat, the infant child who'd begun all this with his incessant wailing, grown now, tall and handsome. For a moment she admired him and then she warned, "He's real and his magic is real and if I were you I'd think long and hard about keeping girls out to their curfews when they politely ask you to be taken home."

For a moment he sat silent in shock, "How did you? Never mind, I'll think twice." Looking back at Jareth he added, "I'll think twice about a lot of things. May I be excused ?" he asked his father.

"Yes. And wake up your mother before you go."

The boy knelt and tapped his mother's hand, then her cheek until she came to. "Mom, you okay."

"I fainted." It was half a statement, half a question. Wobbly she stood and took her seat.

Sarah hadn't thought of it until now. True she could no longer see the future, but she had seen the present while she wasn't here to really see it and that worked as well as being able to predict events. "You and daddy were arguing over me. Karen you said I was just like my mother and daddy, you said you were willing to remove the traces of mommy in your life for Karen, but that you didn't you didn't realize it would include me." She choked back the sobs.

"How could you know that?" Karen asked.

"When I go to the Underground, I won't be coming back. Well I will, but it will be rarely and most probably not to see either one of you. While Jareth and I are there, we will be able to keep tabs on you only by using crystals. I can see you in them, what you're doing, what you say," she added poignantly. "While I've been away, I got home sick and had Jareth let me look in on you. It just so happens that's what I saw."

Robert looked at his daughter, her face stained with tears. "I believe you."

"Sir?" Jareth asked in surprise.

"I believe you," he repeated.

"Robert, she could have easily supposed those things," Karen insisted.

"Karen, I have always done as you've insisted. This time, I'm confused. You want her gone. You signed the papers days ago, but yet now when I'm ready to sign them as well you want to talk me out of it. You don't just want her gone, you want her miserable. You've always wanted her miserable. What I don't understand is why?"

"If I may," Jareth interrupted and then waited patiently for Robert to nod to him indicating his opinion was welcome. "Your wife is so grounded in reality she's forgotten what elation comes with having fantasies. When she sees your daughter, she sees the embodiment of all she wishes she could be. We often reject that which we envy because to have it near us is a constant reminder of what we cannot be or have. I did the same thing when Sarah bested me, beat my Labyrinth and returned to you with your child. She was strength and independence, defiance at it's best and to rule her would have been to rule the universe." He tenderly wrapped an arm around Sarah, leaving his other hand on her thigh. The gesture did not go unnoticed by the girl's father, but he let it pass without comment. "It took me a long while, but eventually I've grown to see letting her light shine over me, sharing in all her fantastic qualities is more important, more rewarding than owning her. I've become a little more like her. I'm better for that. You could be better too, Mrs. Williams, if you'd let yourself be more like her. If you let yourself believe that a little fantasy is better than none at all."

Robert left the room. Karen remained, unable to comment, staring at the man who'd managed to touch on something she thought she'd buried deep enough inside no one would ever see it. When her husband returned he had the scroll, signed, which he handed to the king. "If you take this," he warned him, "you take it on the condition you care for my daughter, protect her, provide for her. Be honest with her, appreciate her and if you ever hurt her, I don't care if your king or not, it won't matter how far Underground you go, I'll...I'll..."

"So noted, sir." Jareth took the scroll with his left hand and extended his right one for Robert to shake.

Reciprocating, Robert shook his hand asking one more thing of him, "May I sing to my daughter one last time before you take her from me?"

"By all means," Jareth agreed.

"Robert?" Karen called. "You're just letting her have her way again."

"Yes, Karen, yes I am, but then I think it's about time I do." Folding her napkin, Karen slammed it to the table and with even steady steps, stalked from the room. "I'll be back," Sarah's father continued as if she'd never thrown the tantrum at all.

"Jareth," she wept as she embraced him. "We've done it!"

"We've done most of it love. We've still got your mother to find."

"Don't ruin this," she pleaded as she kissed him.

"I'm not trying to ruin anything, Sarah, we've got only a week to find her and win her over."

"Win her over? She's had nothing to do with me since I was an adolescent, what could she want with me now?"

Jareth caressed her face, "What has Karen ever wanted with you love and look at the fight she's put up. Let's not dwell on what we've yet to do, instead, let's celebrate what we've accomplished." Jareth took her cheeks into his palms and kissed her passionately.

As Robert returned with his guitar, he let out a tiny cough to interrupt them. Jareth broke the kiss and apologized. "No need," her father replied. "My daughter is a beautiful woman as was her mother and I loved her deeply, until she left me."

"Oh daddy," Sarah said hugging him. "I'm so sorry."

"For what darling. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't even my fault." The soothing hand only a father could provide smoothed down her hair. "You look like your mother, but you're not her. You understand that don't you? You mustn't be afraid to fly. Because you do it once, doesn't mean you'll feel the urge to do it continually. And much as I hate to say it, even though I'm proud to call you mine, you are not exactly me either. You won't allow yourself to be controlled. You won't force yourself to love someone simply to avoid being alone. Somehow I think you were smart enough to take the best of your mom and me and make yourself from that."

"Oh daddy," she cried, burying her head in his shoulder.

Motioning her into the living room, he told her, "Come here, let me sing for you like we used to." Sarah sat with Jareth on the loveseat this time. Robert stood, his right legged propped upon the coffee table. "Now take it easy on your old man. I haven't played much since you've gone. I'm rusty."

"Then come in out of the rain," Sarah squealed just the way she had when she was young and he would pretend his skills had somehow deteriorated.

The first notes of the song left the hollow of the guitar as Robert cleared his throat. His voice shook with emotion as he began to sing, "I'm a tangled up puppet spinning round in knots and the more I see what used to be, the less of you I've got. There was a time that you curled up in my lap like a child. You'd cling to me smiling, your eyes wide and wild. Now you're slipping through my arms, wave a passing hello, twist away and toss a kiss, laughing as you go. You used to say, read me a story and sing me songs of love, for you were princess paradise on the wings of a dove. Now I chase you and tease you, trying to remake you my own, but you just turn away and say please leave me alone." Sarah's eyes filled with tears as he began the refrain, "And I'm a tangled up puppet all hanging in your strings. I'm a butterfly in a spider's web, fluttering my wings. And the more that I keep dancing and spinning round in knots, the more I see what used to be and the less of you I've got." Jareth held Sarah's hands when he saw her shoulders begin to shake. "You are a drawer full of make up and rinses and thing. You keep changing your moods like your earrings and rings, but tonight while we play tag for five minutes in the yard, just for a moment, I caught you off guard. And I'm a tangled up puppet all hanging in your strings. I'm a butterfly in a spider's web, fluttering my wings and the more that I keep dancing and spinning round in knots, the more I see what used to be and the less of you I've got." Robert's eyes were wet now and he could barely continue playing.

Jareth stepped up and took the instrument from him. "Please," he said softly, "allow me." With the same skill he'd shown the first time he'd played, the king was easily able to pick up where Robert left off and play the song for him.

Sarah rushed into her father's arms. "Dance with me daddy," she said through her tears. "Dance with me one last time."

Pulling her close Robert held out her right hand, his arm about her waist. "Now you write your secret poems in a room just for your dreams," he sung. "You don't take time to talk to me about the things you mean, but I mean it. I have watched you take shape from a jumble of parts," his voice was shaky and earnest, "and find the grace and form of a fine work of art. Hey, you brand new woman, newly come into her own. Don't you know that you don't need to grow up all alone?" Jareth continued to play, fading out softly as father and daughter swayed in a strong embrace, taking advantage of the last moments they shared.

Sarah backed away from him slowly. "I would have liked to hear those words from you sooner," she sniffed.

"I'm sorry I couldn't say them to you any sooner," he told her.

"You didn't let me finish," Sarah went on. "I would have liked to hear those words from you sooner, but I'm glad you waited until I was old enough to understand them."

Even Jareth's eyes were wet by then. Robert looked at him. He finally saw what his daughter saw. Maybe he was a king of some fantastic realm, maybe he was an actor, playing a role. What he was no longer mattered only that his daughter loved this man and, for what it was worth, he seemed to love her. "Thank you," Robert mouthed over Sarah's shoulder.

The king set down the guitar and folded his hands together, "Thank you," he mouthed back.

Pushing back her father to arm's length, Sarah said sadly, "I'm sorry to do this to you daddy. The first time I've wanted to stay in as long as I can remember and I've got to go. I've got to find mommy and get her consent too."

"Wait a minute," he said. "I've got an address. It's the one from when she first left. I'm willing to bet she's moved since then, but I'm sure she left a forwarding address, a number, something."

"Thank you," she said hugging him once more.

From the stairs she heard, "Got one of those for your little brother."

Running into his arms, she found herself lifted and spun around. "I'm glad I got to see you," he whispered into her ear. "I'm sorry I've been such a prick to you all these years."

"Toby!" Robert chastised.

"Sorry, been such a jerk, I mean," he corrected.

"Yeah, well, you can change that you know. I shouldn't have given you Christian as a role model." She held his handsome face in her hands. "You, you are so much more than I dreamed you'd ever be Toby. Don't worry about being like anyone else. Be you, not what everyone else expects of you, not even your mother."

"Easy for you to say. You're going back to where there's magic, Sarah. Magic can make life a lot easier."

"It can," she admitted. "It can. But believing is sometimes a very powerful magic. Believe in yourself and you'll find it will be easier for others to believe in you. And try looking at other woman like they're your sister."

Toby rolled his eyes, "Hell, if I do that, I'll never have another date!"

"Well, at least look at them like there somebody's sister."

"I'm glad you're real," he said to Jareth.

He reached to slap Toby on the shoulder, "So am I." He smiled as he shook the boy's hand. "Sarah we really should get going." Sarah nodded and they headed toward the door where their bags waited with Sarah's father.

"I love you baby," Robert told her.

"I love you too, daddy." She kissed his cheek.

"And you'll be okay. You've got money?" he asked.

"Yes sir," Jareth promised.

"And a car?"

"We're headed to pick up a rental now."

"I'll drive you," Robert offered.

Sarah sighed. "Daddy, don't take this the wrong way, but if I don't walk away right now, I'm going to consider not leaving and I don't want to do that."

"No, I don't want you to do that. Now both of you go," Robert opened the door. "And remember to love each other."

"Not something I think I could forget," Jareth told him, reaching to shake his hand.

Sarah's father grabbed him and pulled him into a tight hug. "You're going to be my son-in-law Jareth. I only regret this being the one and only time I'll get to do this."

'A regret I don't happen o share,' he thought as he patted the other man's back.

The rental car purred as they parked it in the lot of the Hertz dealership. Sarah stretched her neck as she shifted the Toyota Camry into park. "I can't believe you drove all this way without letting me help you," Jareth complained.

"For the fiftieth time, you haven't got a license."

"I find it debatable half the persons on the interstate had one of these licenses you speak of," he pointed out defensively.

Sarah popped open the trunk before she looked at him, "Be that as it may, the point was to draw as little attention to ourselves as possible, remember?" The king wore a hurt expression on his typically ignited face. "Do you even know how to drive?"

"Please Sarah," he spoke "I do work in your world after all."

"I know, but I've never really considered you much of a driver." Cracking the door, Sarah headed for the trunk to get her bag. "When I wondered how you and your gaggle of goblins showed up at my house that night I thought is was more like some metaphysical mass transit."

"Clever," Jareth winked as he slammed the trunk. Stepping into the booth at the far end of the parking lot, Sarah settled up the fees for the loaner vehicle and their search began.

New York City had a kind way of enveloping them when they left the safety of their hotel, naturally assuming them into the wild disorganization that, for its inhabitants, was nothing more than another weekday afternoon. Soho, Broadway, all the haunts where the eccentric liked to mark territory, their search for Linda Williams had lead them to the upper west side of Manhattan on a tip from one of her former agents that she was staying somewhere in the Bronx. As sunset came to end their seventh day Aboveground, Jareth and Sarah headed for their suite at the Excelsior Hotel, just ten minutes out side of the suburb they planned to scour in the morning.

Sarah looked around their room. Aside from the time they had spent in her parents' home, they'd found economical accommodations. What surrounded her now was a bit more posh, with it's crown moldings and patterned wallpaper. In the farthest corner of the room, the headboard of a king sized bed was accentuated by two posts which reached almost to the ceiling. A small writing desk in the corner opposite the bed and on the side of the room closest to them a garden style Jacuzzi, a fridge, a mini bar and a hutch which Sarah only assumed contained a television set. "We can't afford to stay here for three more days," she told the king.

"Nonsense," he replied. "I have a particularly good feeling this will be our last night here." Taking her bag, he stacked the cases against the wall. "Tomorrow, first thing in the morning, we're going to find your mother." Sauntering to the tub, he turned the faucets, "Then I shall charm her, as I did your father," he slid his arms free of the frock coat he wore. In the mirror to his back, Sarah watched as a wool sports coat fell to the floor. Next his gloves left his hands, his fingers interlacing, bending back before Jareth turned his palms to Sarah and stretched his arms before him. "She will be unable to disapprove of our union," he told her as his hands massaged her neck. "And at last," Jareth told her huskily, his lips grazing her ear, "I shall take you back to the Underground, where saying goodbye to you is a threat I shall never face again." His lips smoothed over the hollow of her collarbone.

Smiling she asked him, "And you think your mother will approve?"

"Of you?" he asked in surprise. "I believe she will. Of what I'm about to do to you, I hardly think."

"Jareth!" Sarah squealed.

His roaming hands snuck beneath the neckline of her dress exploring the soft, unrestrained mounds of flesh which rose from her chest, "Sarah," he replied breathlessly.

"No Jareth!" she called out. "The tub, it's flooding!"

"Damn," he grumbled turning his wrists, calling upon magic which never came. Sarah in the meanwhile grabbed handfuls of towels from the bath and began sopping up the water. On her knees beside the tub, she laughed at him as he cursed her world and his inabilities to use his magic when he wasn't 'working' there. "Do you find me amusing?" he queried.

"Um, huh," Sarah nodded from her hands and knees. Something flashed in her bright green eyes when she looked up at him.

"Stop," he said quietly.

"What was that?"

Dropping to his knees, he repeated, "Stop. Leave the water lie." Sarah looked at him, her hands full of wet towels seeming to not understand his plea. Further bewildered by the idea that he hung over her in a way which left her no choice but to drop her backside into the spreading pool. Pulling Sarah into his arms, Jareth kissed her, the wet towels falling between them and saturating their clothes. Now very aware of the eager way in which his lips massaged hers, Sarah's hands did their best to undo his shirt. The king lay her back against the floor where her dress soaked up more of the now cold water making her shriek. Jareth only laughed. She smiled back, melting his heart, making it as vacuous as the puddle they were lying in. He opened his hands to her and lifted Sarah to her feet. The simple dress Sarah wore clung to her in the most flattering way. Gathering the hem in to his hands, Jareth continued to lift the dress up to her hip. Pressing close to her, Sarah could feel his straining breeches against her lower abdomen. Warm hands kissed her cool skin as the dress hiked further up her body freeing her bosom and finally finding its way to the floor. "You're freezing," the king noted as his hands roamed her bare skin.

"Tile floor, cold water, wet dress. It happens," she admitted seemingly unconcerned. Jareth lifted her easily into the Jacuzzi, sending more water cascading to the floor. Sitting on the edge he began removing his boots and breeches, while Sarah let out the stopper to keep from having more of a mess to sop up when they were through. When the water reached a more reasonable level, she turned on the jets, their mad whirring forcing Jareth to pay attention. Laughing at his quick response, Sarah explained what she had done.

Sinking into the tub with her, Jareth sighed as the jets pulsed against his neck, shoulders, back, thighs and feet. Until his finger broke the surface of the water, Sarah was content to let the forced water work her over as well. But as he beckoned her, she was powerless to resist him. Fitting herself between her knees, Sarah relaxed against his chest and shivered as several of the bottom jets blasted against her most forbidden places. Massaging her breasts, the king only succeeded in further arousing her awakening senses. His fingers lagged over her erect nipples, taking time to work each one into a frenzy with firm caressing and a gentle pinch. Her arching back urged his hands lower where his tender stroking alternated with the pulsing jets to evoke a moan from low in Sarah's throat.

Rising higher, the sound echoed when it was emitted as he pressed two fingers inside her slick opening. His jagged teeth gnawed on the taunt flesh of her neck as her head lulled against his shoulder. His free hand kneaded her thigh as Sarah's reached up to fill her fingers with his hair. Eager to be filled by him in a more intimate way, she wriggled around until his hands fell loose from her and they were face to face. Hungrily she kissed his lips, his throat and his chest. As he closed his eyes, resting his head back against the side of the tub, he could have never anticipated the delightful warmth he felt as she eased his engorged member between her swollen folds and lowered herself to consume him.

The sweet combination of the pulsating water and Sarah's slow, purposeful undulation quickly increased his level of arousal, so much in fact, Jareth found himself thinking of other things to keep from disappointing the woman he held dear. As he brought his head up once more, he found, to his delight a creamy white breast to either side of his fervid lips. Voraciously his tongue lapped the moisture which fell from her hardened nipple, concentric circles radiating out to the farthest outreaches of her areola. The stimulation growing more severe as her reactions grew and by the time Sarah's body filled with enough irresistible abandon that she threw back her head and dug her nails into his shoulders, Jareth's teeth were edging carefully over the stiff end of her breast as he sucked at her. Her satisfaction was quick on the heels of his talented mouth causing him to hold her hips still as he thrust into her until he too was satisfied. When their love making ended, Sarah rested peacefully against him and let the warm water continue to massage them until they were both nearly put to sleep by the calming waters and the comfort of each other's closeness.

Several hours later, they awoke to find the timers gone off, the water in the tub chilled and the floor surrounding them nearly dry. Jareth woke Sarah gently and guided her to bed where they could continue to sleep off the exhaustion of their passions. Outside all the calming sensations of arm water and pulsing jets, the woman slept restlessly at best. Even as he held her close, she tossed and turned, sleeping first with her cheek above his heart, then turning round so her form was spooned to his and back again before the king could even attempt to keep up. At times when he thought for certain she was resting comfortably, Sarah would surprise him by moaning or calling out. For a moment he considered resetting the tub and putting her back inside, but a glance at the clock, reminded him there was no time for such an extreme lullaby.

Through barely opened eyes, Jareth watched her yawn and stretch as if Sarah had slept quite satisfactorily. She dressed and pinned up her hair only to take the pins out, undress and get a shower. When she came back from the bathroom, Sarah dressed again, re-pinned her hair, changed her dress, took up a few pieces of hair, chose another dress, let down a few pins. When he could stand to watch her agonize no longer, Jareth threw back the covers of the bed. His warm hands encircled her neck as his lips fell upon the stretched tendon that ran along her neck. "You're perfect," he told her softly. "In any color, in any style, with your hair up, with your hair down, perfect. If your mother doesn't see that, either by choice or by ignorance, it's her shortcoming love, not yours."

"I just want to look nice when she sees me. It's been such a long time, I don't want her to think..."

"What do you care what she thinks?"

"I do," she looked away embarrassedly. " I know I shouldn't, but I do." Jareth took her into his arms, "Sarah darling, after today, you won't be able to see her again, so why do this to yourself?"

"You're right," she barely whispered into his neck. A part of her had been hoping her mother might have some of the same instantaneous parental feeling her father had mustered, but in her heart she knew better. Knew that Linda had chosen to leave her, abandon their family years ago, whereas Robert had only allowed it to become a secondary importance to a wife he thought loved him, at least a woman willing to stay. "I know you're right." Her words were louder, carried more conviction this time as she informed him, "If you're ready, I think this dress will do fine."

"I'll be ready in five minutes," Jareth told her as he headed for the bath.

Looking in the mirror, Sarah found herself repulsed by her reflection. Her raven hair flowing around her shoulders, long and thick. She could see how Karen could have grown to hate her, she was, after all, the spitting image of her mother. Funny phrase, spitting image, Sarah wondered briefly where it came from before the disgust in her stomach brought her mouth to watering. Linda stared back at her. Sarah wondered if she could ever be so cruel, wondered if the power existed within her to wake up one morning and walk out on Jareth, leave everything she had proclaimed she wanted for some temporary fancy that made her feel youthful. 'No,' she thought as she reached for the pins on the dressing table. Once last glance in the mirror and pursing her lips, she spit into the face that looked so much like Linda Williams'. She knew now exactly where that saying had come from and she knew she would never be the woman she saw in that reflection.

Suitcases in hand, the king and his mortal entered the apartment complex where it was rumored Linda Williams was living. A quick run down of the mailboxes easily revealed the number of her apartment. Up the stairs they went, side by side. Three doors down they saw apartment 6C and knocked three times on the front door. "Who is it?" Linda asked in a hurry without looking through the peephole.

"It's Sarah,...mom," the girl answered. "It's your daughter." The woman who answered their ratatat was far from the glamorous woman Sarah remembered as her mother, nor the rising star the press remembered. Her hair was matted, knotted and clumped, her face stained with smeared mascara.

Once she noticed the suitcase in Sarah's hand, Linda moaned, "Christ Sarah, if you've come begging for a place to stay, you might as well know we're barely making it as it is so unless you've got money to pitch in for rent and expenses, you can't stay here." Slowly Linda began to close the door in her daughter's face.

Jareth's hand kept the door from making contact with the jamb. "Excuse me, Ms. Williams, but we're not here to stay. You're daughter has something to say to you and my suggestion is for you to hear her out."

Backing away, she let him enter, Sarah at his heels. "You part of a local show," she asked the king.

"I'm part of no show," he huffed.

"Mother," for Sarah felt uncomfortable addressing her as Ms. Williams and even more odd referring to her as Linda, "this is Jareth, the Goblin King."

"Good Lord," Linda sighed as she poured a drink for herself and offered to do the same for either of them. "Really Sarah, this is why I left in the first place." In utter disbelief, Sarah stared as her mother. "You and you're eternal fantasies. I indulged you at first thinking it was just a phase, but this is too much."

"You don't seriously expect me to believe the woman who left behind her home and family for a starry eyed actor in tight pants did so because her twelve year old daughter escaped to those same fantasies." Pulling the scroll from her bag, Sarah continued, "If that's the case, then indulge me one last time. Sign this," she practically demanded as she thrust the scroll at her mother, "and I'll be out of your hair forever."

Linda read over the words on the parchment, snickering at what it implied she was to do. "You expect me to believe this," she snorted. "This stage prop," she said scratching at the wax seal, then suddenly her demeanor changed. "This is real wax," she proclaimed.

"What of it?" Jareth asked her.

"On stage it's too hot, too hot for real wax. It would be plastic, but this is real." Stalking over to Jareth, she asked, "What game are you trying to run?"

"I'm not much in the way of games," he answered. "I play but one, the Labyrinth and even that is solely because I'm the master of the game, but I'm telling you nothing you don't already know. The scroll says all this. The question is do you believe?"

Linda stood numb before his critical stare. Crocodile tears welled in her eyes, "But surely you don't assume I'll just sign over my only child to you! Why, Sarah's all I have."

"Please mother," Sarah muttered.

"Ms. Williams, assuredly were it you who was asking to go and were it your mother standing in your way, would you want her to claim hold so steadfastly to her only child, especially given consideration that _child_ were well since of age?" He began to stalk around her the way he did when he meant to intimidate someone. "You were an only child, weren't you Linda? Mommy's pride and joy, Daddy's littlest little girl," he spat.

"I want…," she began sternly without meeting Jareth's deliberate gaze while Sarah looked on, shocked at the tone the king was taking with her mother.

"I think I know what you want, Ms. Williams," snapping his eyes back on Sarah he asked as kindly as he could without slipping from the brut character he'd been acting towards Linda, "Would you excuse us a moment love?" With no audible reply, Sarah went into what was thankfully the kitchen and sat at the table there her teeth beginning to wear back the edges of her plain fingernails.

"Is that what this is about? You get to play king and order my daughter around as if she were one of your servants?"

"I believe you mean subjects."

"Regardless," she snapped at him. "Let's just say for a moment I believe you are this Goblin King fellow."

"Linda Williams, do you mean to pretend not to know me?" Mismatched eyes leveled with hers, a trademark sneer thinning his lips. "Was it so very long ago I spoke the rules to you, late one night, in your little sister's nursery? Let me help you remember. You were fourteen years old, mommy and daddy had just had, what was the euphemism you used, ooops baby was it? Regardless, your sister was seven and one quarter months old. You were left to baby-sit while your father rushed your mother to the hospital for pains she was having. Her gallbladder, if I remember correctly. You resented that child, as you have resented everything which dared to turn the follow spot from you for even a moment. So you went to your room, ignoring the crying child, and you began to read, the same leather bound fairytale you gave to your own child when you were too mature to believe in fairytales any longer. Do you recall the title of that book?"

"The Labyrinth," she whispered weakly.

Jareth's spun on his heels, "The Labyrinth," he sang. "The Labyrinth. I still remember the look on your face when I appeared as if from no where on the sill where the white owl had been only seconds sooner. Utter disbelief. Like the others, you bargained with me, attempted to appeal to my more benevolent side, swore your words were without meaning, but we know that was just for fear your parents would scold you or look upon you without favor. 'In my castle,' I told you, 'the child is in my castle.' What was her name? Katlyn, Katherine, Kristin…"

"Karolyn," she said stopping his list of similar names.

"Karolyn, that was it. Karolyn made the most homely looking dwarf. She was christened so many years ago, I barely remembered what you used to call her."

"How do you call her now?" Linda asked, a hint of lamentation in her query.

Jareth made his posture more rigid, "She goes by Drema these days. If it eases your mind any to know, she's married with a child of her own. A child, oddly enough named after your daughter."

Linda was sniveling, her arms hugged around her body, trembling with fear, not of Jareth, but fear of facing as an adult the foolishness we engage in as children, fear that came with finding out the line between fact and fiction was a hazy shade of grey. "I haven't thought of Karolyn in such a long, long time. Haven't thought of you, or that place."

"There wasn't much for you to think of. You never left the nursery. You didn't even try to find her."

His pointed reminder sent her to her knees where she remained wailing for several minutes. Sarah's hands pressed against the swinging kitchen door when she heard the tiny cries, but hesitated long enough to recall Jareth had asked her for privacy.

"Sign the paper, Linda. Do as your daughter asks. Think of it as freeing yourself of one more in a long chain of responsibilities you've been burdened with and I will make it worth your while." Interested in his offer, she stopped crying and looked up. From his interior breast pocket he withdrew a pen and a bill fold. His nimble fingers counted out five thousand dollars and dropped it to the ground, together with the implement, beneath the woman's nose.

"Five thousand dollars?" she questioned. "For my child," she said in disgust.

"Five thousand now, another ninety-five thousand once we've returned home. That ought to be enough for you to fool yourself into believing you're a star again."

Suddenly filled with confidence, Linda rose from the ground, straightened her dress and wiped her eyes. "Think what you want Goblin King, but I was born a star. I know no other way to live."

"Such a pity," he said before calling Sarah from her hiding place, just in time for her to see Linda Williams finishing her signature at the foot of the scroll.

After taking the scroll from her mother, Sarah threw her arms around Jareth's neck. "I don't know how you did this," she said, "but you have. Just like you've made every other wish of mine come true." Having expressed her appreciation in words, Sarah pulled him close, craning her neck to press her lips to his as Linda looked on stuck somewhere between disapproval and jealousy. "When can we go home?" Sarah asked when their kiss was broken.

"We should have gone home the moment your families were notified of your intentions. Is there anyone else who thinks your someplace other than where you are?" Jareth asked.

It was difficult to tell if the sick in her stomach came before or after the bitter taste in her mouth as she admitted, "Christian."

Nothing changed in the neighborhood Sarah had once shared with Christian, as nothing about their building had changed and as nothing about the location of the spare key had changed. Sarah's hand dragged along the edge of the door jamb until the tiny metal key fell into her palm. Sliding it into the keyhole, she was more than a bit surprised to see he hadn't bothered to change the locks since her departure. Inside the lights were all off. Instinctively she reached for the switched and bathed the entry way in 60 watts. Making her way to what had been their room, she saw nothing of hers remained. This was not a surprise, but rather precisely what she had anticipated he would do after she left. There were a few ladies' items trailed here or there, making Sarah wonder if the girls he dated were all naive or just exactly alike enough not to notice.

"Might as well have a seat," Sarah told Jareth after she completed her investigation. "He's not here." And so they got comfortable on the sofa and Sarah introduced Jareth to the many wonders of daytime television. Court TV, Soap Operas, pet programs, health and fitness shows, and the king's personal favorite, game shows.

Laughing robustly, he would remark, "There aren't anymore vowels you twit," or the one Sarah could never resist chuckling at, "I'll take civil engineering for 1000 Alex." For them the hours passed like wind, until Sarah heard heavy footfalls and a key in the door. Then she began to fear how Christian would react to finding them in the apartment.

"What the hell do you two think you're doing here?" he asked as he came in dressed in what was rather obviously a wait staff uniform.

"Before you go getting all excited," Sarah cautioned him.

"It's a little late for that isn't it. I mean, I come home, after a long day at work and I find my ex-fiancé," before he could continue, Sarah corrected him, being sure to point out that neither did she wear his ring, nor did they have any plans to wed. "Fine, my ex-girlfriend and her new piece on my couch, probably going at it like last time."

"Must you continually be so vulgar!" Sarah shouted.

Frantically, Christian began to pace the floor before them, "You know, I thought more of you. Everyone told me to change the locks, just in case you came back like a Tasmanian devil in the night and tried to kill me or something, but I gave you the benefit of doubt. I said you would never do anything like that and how do I get repaid? Here you are? What is it you want?"

"Were I to wager, it would be more because of the other woman in your life and less because of what you thought I might do," Sarah declared.

Eager to put an end to the cat fight, Jareth interceded. "If I may. We've come to explain Sarah's whereabouts so we might return home and continue on with the plans being made for us there."

"If I may," Christian mocked the king. "You may not. I don't know you, I sure as hell don't like you and I don't want to hear anything from you." Shoving the king aside, he began to address Sarah, "So what, you're going to marry this guy and you come to rub it in my face? He got money or something?"

Calmly, Jareth tapped his shoulder. "Perhaps we've stumbled upon some failure to understand each other's articulation. Allow me a second attempt." The king cleared his throat, "Sarah is going to return to my kingdom, with me, where she will become my queen and together rule over the Underground. You neither have to accept this fact, nor do I anticipate your being pleased with it, but you must understand it if we are to return home."

"What kind of freak are you?" Christian asked. "Sarah really, is this the best you could do once I let you go."

"Let me go?" she repeated.

"Best she cold do?" Jareth asked. "She's going to be a queen."

"Yeah, buddy I get it. Look if you knocked her up or something, don't go letting her convince you to marry her and give away half of everything you've got. You can take it to court. Insist on a paternity test. Hell, for the right, let's say donation, I'll testify she cheated on me. I'll be your character witness." A growl began in the king's throat. "That's it buddy, get mad. Don't just believe everything a woman, tells you. And use a fucking rubber for Christ's sake. I got a whole drawer-full in there. I'll get you a handful to get you started." Jareth stilled him as he attempted to pass. Making love to Sarah had been one of the most beautiful things he had ever done and were it that she were with his child, it would have filled him to overflowing with joy, but this mortal had taken all that and succeeded in cheapening it without so much as a second thought.

"The contents," the Goblin King began, "of your drawer are of little concern to me." Taking Christian by the shoulders, Jareth pressed him to the wall, holding him in place by squaring his forearm just beneath his chin. "Not that is any of your business," he spat, "but in defending the honor of the woman I love, let me make you aware that Sarah is not pregnant. I am to be united to her in love and I gladly give her all I have to have her with me, for all I own and all I am, I am nothing without her. Furthermore, our relations require no accouterments which you could provide, for there is nothing evil or lurking or distrustful between us, but little did I expect you would understand. As I have tried patiently to explain and what I need for you to understand, neigh what I am willing to take great and painful lengths for you to understand is this. We are to be united. We will reside in my home. Whatever excuses Sarah has made in the past have all been to cover for the fact that she was coming to my world, a world which few believe truly exists and hence the reason for her lies. You will never see her again. Do you understand?" through gritted teeth he asked the question.

"Yeah, yeah, I understand. You, her, marriage, far away land, happily ever after. I get it." Jareth eased off his hold on the young man as both he and Sarah began to feel the familiar tingle of magic pulling them home. "What I don't understand," Christian added with renewed vigor, "is why you thought I'd give a fuck if you took the little slut back to your place and tried to pretend she was a queen or whatever little costume got you through it." To punctuate his comment, Christian gyrated his hips, indicating the king in some way would have to pretend Sarah was someone else in order to make love to her.

Grabbing the king's arm, Sarah attempted to stop him, "Forget about him. They're bringing us home."

It was too late to halt what Christian's careless words had put in motion. Jareth's fist was balled waist high and his legs fought against magic's tug like a locomotive out of control. He was on the mortal man faster than Christian could breath. Drawing back his fist and fluidly sailing it towards the mortal's face, Jareth delivered a blow which not only broke his nose, but left him out cold lying on the floor.

Taking up Sarah's hand, he then allowed the magic to drag them back, satisfied he had evened the score and left Christian with a truth he'd be too afraid to tell, hoping the lies would be more flattering to his beloved. "Now we may go."

"Home," Sarah finished. "Now we may go home."


	37. Chapter 36

**CHAPTER THIRTY SIX - FINISHING TOUCHES AND A SPECTRAL KISS**

Being back Underground was a relief, not just for Sarah and the king, but for everyone at the castle, not to mention Hoggle. With their return came news of Sarah's parents' willingness to sign off on her union with Jareth, their being together seemed more and more inevitable, but as was so often the case in this realm, no one wanted to put too much faith in something that may not be what it seemed.

Sarah and Deverell sat in her office, "I'm very sorry miss, but the rules are specific. The phrase used to call the goblins cannot be changed."

"I see," she sighed, catching her head in her palms. "Well, we'll think of a way around it then. There's always a way around everything."

"I admire your way of thinking, milady and if, by chance, I've not mentioned it before now, I would like to take the opportunity to say I am truly honored to be chosen to help craft this idea of yours. It's just the sort of thing needed around here. You'll make a wonderful queen and a glamorous one at that."

"Hush, I've never taken flattery well and some silly title won't change that."

"Milady you should adjust to flattery for the king bestows it upon you even when you are not in his presence. And besides, flattery makes me sound as if the things I feel compelled to tell you are said out of some contrived plot to win your trust that I may abuse it in the future, when in fact, I wish only to show my appreciation and my loyalty."

"Duly noted," Sarah blushed. "And forgive me for sounding cold or presumptuous."

"There's nothing to be forgiven," he added beginning to pace the floor, brainstorming as he did.

For a while, she watched his methodic dance, eight paces right, stop, turn, eight paces left, stop, turn. Finally she asked of him, "Deverell, I wish you would stop that. I get dizzy only watching you."

"My apologies, it's just that I seem to think better when I'm moving about."

"Now there's an idea. I'm going for a walk, perhaps to the edge of the Labyrinth. With a bit of luck, Hoggle will be around and despite what Jareth thinks of him, he is incredibly adept at problem solving." Sarah closed the book she had open on her desk and slipped her feet back into her shoes, which she had kicked off when first she sat behind the desk.

As she stood to leave, Deverell interjected, "Apologies again miss, but his majesty left explicit orders you were not to be alone outside the castle." At her chastising glance he added, "For your protection, until your citizenship is official and you're not so vulnerable to Tiberon."

Conceding to the king's wishes, Sarah suggested, "Then would you like to walk with me for a bit?"

"If milady wishes for me to accompany her, I will."

"Milady wishes it," she chuckled as she wondered if anyone here would ever learn to be less formal with her.

Outside the sun was low in the sky. Late afternoon was cool and comfortable in the kingdom. Milling about, this way and that, goblins carried out menial tasks. The less educated and less coordinated ones were in small groups fooling around or drinking. One particularly young goblin stopped before Sarah and stared up at her. She pretended not to notice, not wanting to seem disturbed or aloof. "Here now, Balmek. Don't go staring at the queen that way. You'll be sailing head over heels you keep that up."

At hearing the odd instruction Sarah stopped entirely. "Balmek, is that your name?" The little goblin nodded. "Well Balmek, while I agree that staring isn't particularly polite, I can assure you I'll not send you sailing because of it. But one who stares usually does so as a precursor to some question. Is there a curiosity I can satisfy for you?"

Balmek's mother dropped into an obedient curtsey. "Apologizes to you miss. I don't give a fig who you are," cried out the same woman as earlier. "You'll not talk to my son that way."

"What way?" Sarah asked in surprise at the way she'd run defensively to protect her child. "I was just wondering why he was staring at me."

"I didn't understand you then," the goblin woman admitted. "I'm Sari," she said extending her hand.

"No need to be sorry. It was a simple misunderstanding."

"Not sorry miss, Sa - ri," she said slowly, pronouncing each syllable separately.

"Oh my," Sarah said with a giggle as she shook the woman's hand. "Seems as if I'm the one misunderstanding things now. Sari is it and this is your son Balmek. I'm Sarah and this is the king's assistant Deverell."

"Sarah," Balmek squealed.

"Hush," Sari corrected him. "This lady is the queen and you'll not call her by anything other."

Contorting in confusion, Sarah's eyebrows danced wildly on her face. "I'm not the queen, not yet," she added. "Even if I were, there'd be no reason to not call me Sarah. It is my name after all."

"Pardon, word round the city is you were queen."

Deverell chimed in, "It's true the king intends to make this woman his queen, but there are certain formalities we must follow to make it official." He tried his best to use words he thought the goblins would understand.

Chuckling Sari almost toppled over. "Oh you mortals! Must be a powerful magic you have to make the king abide by the rules." Even Sarah had to laugh at how tickled the goblin seemed to be. "I've taken up enough of your time, Sarah. It was awfully nice to make your acquaintance." Sari started away.

"Before you go," Sarah called to her, "do you mind my asking why you have such trouble with the language when I've been struggling to learn how to talk like everyone else here?"

"Everyone of nobility or connected to them no doubt. We lesser folk aren't educated miss. We've no books, no scrolls, no one to teach us. We pick up enough to manage and what we don't know we take to the smarter of us who does their best to explain it."

"That's horrible."

"It is what it is. In centuries no one's changed it, but then why bother, everyone seems happy with the way things are," Sari explained as she looked at the dirt beneath her feet.

"I'm not happy with it!" Sarah exclaimed.

Balmek in the mean time had gotten right up close to her, "Why do you look so different?" he asked.

Distracted for a moment from her own frustration, Sarah bent to face the tiny goblin. "How do I look?" Balmek shrugged, unable to find the words. "Well if we all looked the same, then we'd have to go around sniffing one another to tell each other a part and that's just very rude." Balmek laughed. "Truth is I have no look at all. I am only the reflection of what you see. Were I an ogre, you would see me as an ogre. Were I a witch, you would see me as a witch. Were I a chicken, you would see me as a chicken." With each outlandish example, Sarah accompanied wild gestures and skewed facial expressions. "So the real question to be asked is how do you see me Balmek?"

He thought for a moment about what she had said. She was kind to him, didn't turn her nose or walk away when he spoke to her. She was smiling which meant she was no chicken for chickens did not have lips with which to smile. And an ogre would have stomped him flat without even looking. It left him with only one option, "You're pretty," he announced. "Pretty like my mama."

Sarah's eyes began to well and through her tears the squat, dirt covered goblin child became her baby brother, became every small child she had ever held. "And you are precious as a stone, no," she said quickly, "as a gem."

At first Balmek just looked at her and giggled, wondering why her eyes were filling with water the way they were, but then in a burst of energy he went off dancing. "Precious as a gem, precious as a gem," he sang without really knowing what he was saying. "The lady queen says I'm precious as a gem."

Choked up at the exuberant display of her child, Sari bowed to the mortal and followed after him with a wave of her hand. Sarah stood straight once more, grinding the moisture from her eyes. "Why doesn't anyone teach them?" she asked Deverell.

"Miss, it is my understanding that education was a thing passed on by the elders. As goblins grew to become industrious they're need for education subsided. Their elders taught them trade and even that over the years has dwindled to the few capable of work and the others barely capable of play," he explained.

"Preposterous! Become industrious, slaves is what they've become. Send them out here to dig ditches and move dirt. March them into battle because they're expendable. The need for education is not a subsiding kind of need!" Sarah was furious at the insinuation and as with all great thinkers, their emotions sometimes lead them to glorious conclusions. "I've got it."

"Got what?" Deverell asked.

"The solution to the problem we were having, and perhaps, to a problem we didn't even know we had." She was turning around and heading back to the castle. "We'll educate the goblins. I'll compose a reader, maybe a book of arithmetic as well and we'll teach them. It's got to be something basic," she continued. "Something to be used by young and old a like. Something to hold their interest. Pictures, it should have pictures." By now the king's assistant had practically broken into a sprint in his efforts to keep up with her. "And once they're educated, we'll teach them how to use crystals." She stopped just outside the castle door. "And then they'll watch the mortals. When they see a baby in a horrid situation, they'll go and deliver an invitation, we'll work on the wording later, but they'll deliver an invitation to wish the child away with positively no repercussions. Then we'll house the children here in the oubliette where time stands still, only we'll turn it in to a nursery and when the goblins come across someone worthy of a child and incapable of having one, they'll deliver the child to them. It's so simple, I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner!"

"Simple?" Deverell sighed when she went inside finally able to stop his mad pace.

The tip of the king's quill beat rhythmically on his blotter while he tried to find the words to scribe in his journal, words worthy of describing the last few days. Rather than inspiration, he met only frustration. Their time Aboveground had been unspeakably divine and the ease with which they'd managed to accomplish their mission, nothing short of amazing. Though he'd have never permitted Sarah to go alone, Jareth could never have imagined how important his presence there would be, nor how fortunate a find it was Sarah had asked him to remain visible to some as the Goblin King. Were it not for his appearance Toby would never have reacted as he had, thereby forcing Robert to believe the wild story Sarah had come to tell and had he not reminded Linda of their previous encounter, she surely would have denied her daughter's happiness. Now there was nothing to consider but the reaction of the Leanan Sidhe to all of this. He had, in the new found interest he'd developed in fairness, imagined both outcomes to the scenario.

There was the outcome he desired, where his mother listened to his plea with an open mind, recalled all the love she herself had once been able to share with a mortal and granted her permission for the king to marry the woman he had selected. Then there was the outcome he expected, where the Leanan Sidhe refused to listen to a single thing he said, cast him from her tomb and ruined every chance he stood to remain eternally blissful in the company of his mortal. The idea of some other scenario, some bad start with a happy ending perhaps, was beyond his scope of imagination. And so he remained in an extremely deep pattern of thought, so deep in fact, when his assistant came knocking at his door, he barely batted an eyelash.

Repeated attempts failed to elicit a varied response from within the king's office and Deverell, having exhausted all his patience when contending with Sarah earlier, came in without waiting for permission from the king, only to find him as oblivious face to face as he had been beyond the berth of the thick wooden door. "Your majesty?" Deverell asked timorously.

"What is it?" Jareth asked without particularly caring, his quill still thumping on the blotter.

The king's assistant took a seat facing his superior, "Your majesty, there is something about which we must speak; however, the matter I've in mind would command your full attention sire."

"Go on," the king paltered.

"It involves Sarah," Deverell told him. The time for passivity had been spent as Jareth straightened in his chair, returned the quill to its well and folded his hands before him on his desk. It was easy to see, Deverell now had his complete attention. "Your majesty, I think milady has done herself in. She's taken what was a brilliant plan to improve our kingdom, one guaranteed to get the attention of the Triumvirate and turned it into such a futile anomaly I fear she may be laughed out of the great hall, my grace."

In as consuming as his worries over his mother had been, it had slipped Jareth's recollection there was a final piece of the puzzle which remained in Sarah's control. "Do I want to know what that is?" he edged on warily.

"Most probably not," Deverell concluded. "I doubt it will please you." Jareth's hand caught his head as it fell. Between slightly parted fingers he peeked out waiting to hear what was coming next. "Your majesty, the lady Sarah believes, in order to best utilize the goblins in her plan of managing children in the Underground, she needs to educate them."

"Educate them?" the king asked, still hidden behind his glove.

"Educate them, your majesty. Teach them to read, write, use language and mathematics." He heard Jareth chuckle. "I know your highness, it's ludicrous. I would have attempted to dissuade her, but she ran off in such an excited state of motivation it broke my heart to say anything to the contrary."

Thinking of the seer who had long ago warned him this girl would be his undoing, Jareth slid his hand from his face revealing a wide smile. "What's ludicrous is that we, myself included, have allowed the goblins to assume such insignificance in our society."

"But your majesty," Deverell attempted to interject, but was cut off by the king.

"But I myself kick them around and bully them, was that your argument?" Deverell nodded at Jareth's accurate presumption. "Yes, well, the mortal has a point. We're asking them to accept her as queen, perhaps if they see she wants to better them, they'll be less disinclined to accept her."

"But your majesty," this time the assistant gave a moderate pause in anticipation of Jareth's interruption, but for no cause, "don't you find it a dangerous idea? What, with so many of them and if they are all to become educated we could have rebellion on our hands."

"The possibility exists I suppose; however, think of this. We'll be giving them purpose and functionality and with them being so fiercely loyal by nature, don't you suppose this will only encourage them to be more loyal."

"When did you become such an optimist?" A female's voice asked from the doorway.

Jareth turned to see Arulan standing there. "I have always been an optimist," he said pointedly before supplementing, "I just went through a skeptical phase." The three of them laughed heartily.

Temporarily the raucous kept Sarah from her thoughts, but as quickly as her attentions had been diverted, they returned to the reader she was preparing. Once it was complete she'd have Jareth duplicate it a number of times. Then she'd begin assembling the goblins, recruiting the more educated to assist her in teaching and dividing the remainder into manageable sizes for attending class. Sarah was not completely unrealistic. She knew it would take a year or more until they could functional use language, longer to make them proficient and to teach them to write, longer still to train them for the jobs she had in mind for them. Eventually they'd take on mathematics, maybe art. Suddenly she found her mind spiraling out of control with ideas of what she could teach them.

In the plan she'd created for herself, Sarah had decided on staying in the Underground. It was, after all, what she wanted, what Jareth wanted, but some crack in her plan let doubt come seeping in and she wondered who would do these things if she weren't here. Returning Aboveground had gone beyond disenchanting her, it was an unacceptable punishment now. Were the Triumvirate or the Leanan Sidhe not to accept her they wouldn't just be sending her Aboveground, they'd be banishing her. To love Jareth was to love his world, his subjects and his servants and Sarah did love Jareth, as much as she loved everything that came with him.

The king lie in his bed beside his mortal. Unlike other nights they shared, Sarah was not wrapped inside his tight embrace, instead she was curled on her left side, her rump pressed against his hip. Jareth stared up at the ceiling watching the shadows dance as the torchier flames flickered in the breeze from the open window. Sarah's eyes were closed, but only lightly, and she was fiercely aware his breathing lacked the normal rhythm of his sleep, but rather seemed interrupted by heavy sighs and the occasional undecipherable grumble.

'Fifteen more minutes,' she thought as she pictured his strained face behind her eyelids. 'Fifteen more minutes and I'm rolling over to call his bluff.' It wasn't as if Sarah didn't know why he was awake and restless, she just didn't know why he insisted on keeping it all to himself when she gladly would have talked it over with him or helped him keep his mind off their impending visit to his mother's tomb. Yes, that was what kept him staring into space long after it was too dark to really see anything, long after the only things still stirring in the castle were shadows. It wasn't as if she didn't understand, after all she had been afraid to face her parents too and look at how it all turned out. If anything, she came away from her trip with a new found understanding of her mother and a sense of closure with her father, one which left her feeling less abandoned than she had in decades. She tried to think of something, anything positive she could imagine coming from his confronting his mother's ghost.

Jareth eyed Sarah's form beneath the duvet, the steep dip of her waste and the voluptuous rise of her hips which set up the easy roll of her long sleek legs that zig zagged right down to the point of her toes. Another heavy sigh escaped his throat and Sarah noted he had only three more minutes remaining before she confronted him. It occurred to him to reach out and smooth his hand along her silhouette, but Jareth quickly thought better of waking his love when the king's mood was sub-par to say the least. Fidgeting a bit, he managed to fold his arms across his chest without disturbing what he thought was the sleeping mortal.

'One hundred seventy-seven, one hundred seventy-eight, one hundred seventy-nine,' Sarah counted in her head before she spun around to face the king. Propped on one elbow, she looked down upon his deceptively calm face. Jareth had closed his eyes in an effort to mislead Sarah as she hovered above him. His chest rose and fell in an all too patterned way. If that weren't enough to give him away, the forced air noises he pumped from his nose betrayed his horrible acting. "I know you're not sleeping," she told him as her hand smoothed over his chest. "You haven't been asleep for hours."

The king fluttered his eyes before looking sleepily up at her, "Surely I've no idea what you're talking about. I've been asleep for hours. I must have been having a nightmare."

"Last time I checked, you didn't need to be asleep to have one of those." Her lips kissed his forehead, along the side of his face, stopping at his chin. "Call it woman's intuition, but" she went on kissing down his neck and over his chest, "I have a sneaking suspicion it's because of your mother."

"My mother?" he asked her as if it were the most asinine thing he'd ever heard. "That's ridiculous. What could possibly make you think that I'm..." In a way which said she knew he as lying, Sarah looked up at him from just above his navel. "...losing sleep over..." he continued, hoping his calm demeanor would keep her from pushing him further, but Sarah only kept her hard eyes on his in an unforgiving stare. "...my mother. Yes, my mother. It's all I've been able to think about for hours."

Caressing his sides, she eased back up parallel to him, "I know, but you should have said something, we could've talked about it. I could've helped you."

"Could you?" He asked a bit more abruptly than he had intended, "Could you make me understand what it is a child can do to make it's mother hate him so strongly those feeling survive even death?" There was a pause as he looked away, unable to accept the reality that he had caused the tears which shimmered in her eyes. "I'm sorry," he pleaded taking her into his arms. "I didn't mean to come across so abrasively."

Her warm tears ran along his lithe chest as Sarah held to the king. "I can't," she admitted. "I can no more make you understand that than I can understand why my mother packed up to leave the man she loved as well as her only child. No more than I could make my father and his wife understand a fantasy world where foolish persons so easily wished away infants to a goblin king." Her sniffling met silence as she lie there searching for more to say, something consoling. "But I would have liked to try to soothe you, put your mind at ease and bring you rest." Her feet swung from beneath the duvet and slid into her waiting slippers. Sarah rose from the bed, her hand sweeping her robe from a nearby chair as she headed for the door.

Jareth was on her nearly instantly. Dropping to his knees, he grabbed Sarah by her hips and planted his left ear against her womb. "Please Sarah," he pleaded as his leaking eyes stained her silk robe," I can't stand to have you leave me again. I was wrong not to wake you, wrong not to tell you all I was feeling."

Compassionately Sarah ran her long fingers in rows through his flattened blonde hair. "Foolish man. Haven't you learned. We may not always agree, at times we have hurt each other deeply and in the long future we stand to share, we will most probably do it again, but we have never been better apart than we are together, not even in the bad times." Her gently hand guided him to his feet and back to their bed. Kissing him tenderly on his lips as she stared into his wet eyes she told him, "I'm going to get us some warm milk. It will help you sleep." The king held her hand and her gaze until she stepped from his reach.

'Whatever it was he had done to push his mother away,' he thought as he watched her glide through the open door, "I shall not do again with you," Jareth promised the empty room in which he now sat.

It was no march of confidence, no hopeful stride which took the duo into the labyrinth this day. Instead four distinct skids marked their shuffle through the gate and down the path toward the tomb built for the Leanan Sidhe. Hoggle watched them as they plodded over the dirt floors in between the stone slab walls, their hands joined, their heads hung, their eyes oblivious to everything put the placement of their next heavy step. He sighed. "The two of 'em has come so far," the dwarf thought aloud. "Never thought I'd say it, but I hope they makes it."

From the bottom of the staircase, Sarah could hear the barely audible clattering of toenails on the stone floor and she knew they were merely steps away from the goal they had set out to accomplish only hours earlier. Curving the corners of her mouth was the tiny voice of a regal fox as he alternated the accent on the phrase he repeated, "_None_ may enter without my permission." "None _may_ enter without my permission." "None may _enter_ without my permission." For a time they stood a top the stairs watching Sir Didymus continue his erratic patterns, his fuzzy brow wrinkling as he attempted to seem foreboding. As he finished what Sarah thought was the most astute version, "None may enter without _my_ permission," she let loose a demure cough. Didymus spun on his heels to face them, "I shall fight anyone, anywhere..." he cried. Sarah's warm smile quickly quieted him. "Milady?"

"May we have your permission?" she asked as she sunk to his level.

For as much as a fox could smile, Sir Didymus did. "Milady, for you to ask my permission is like asking the sun to shine, the deed is done before your sweet lips part." He bowed low before her, the feathers of his cap skimming the ground as he did. When he straightened himself once more, he met the watchful eye of the king, "Yourཕཕཕyourཕཕཕyour majesty," he stammered. "I have offended thee. Doest though wish to send me to the bog, for I, your humble servant, will willingly obey any command his highness gives."

Jareth's knees bent, his long legs doubling back on themselves. "No need, but keep in mind I won't be so liberal when she is queen." For the first time all day, Jareth smiled. Then he stood, took Sarah's arm in his and approached the door to the tomb of the Leanan Sidhe. "Ready?" he asked before they crossed the threshold.

A pregnant pause fell between them as the mortal considered the magnitude of what they were about to do. Only briefly she weighed the best and worst possible outcomes and then, drawing in a sigh of courage, she stood straight at his side, looking up into his mismatched eyes and calmly replied, "I believe I am."

Her confidence drove his right foot forward, obediently his left followed and so a pattern was begun, one which soon brought him before the overwhelming oil replica of the woman who was once more than stone and spirit. The peacefulness normally inherent to these types of places was missing, in fact, Sarah got the distinct feeling they were not welcome here, not in the slightest.

"Mother," she heard Jareth's voice draw out. "I'm not leaving. You might as well accept that now." He seemed to be warning the air around him, but it became evident as the floor beneath their feet began to quake something more than the air had heard him. The king continued his tirade, "Honestly, you're behaving like a spoiled child." The eyes of the painting seemed to glower down at him as the frame beat against the wall of the mausoleum. Sarah tried to back against a wall, searching desperately for a way to stabilize herself, not wanting to show neediness by clinging to Jareth, but not wanting to show cowardice by sinking to the floor. "Go on, then throw this tantrum of yours if it will satisfy you." The ruckus caused a stone to fall from the middle of the far right wall. As it hit the ground, it cracked. While the display distracted Sarah's attention, a tiny gasp escaping her, so small it could not be heard above the noise, the Goblin King continued his threats, "Bring this place down around my feet if you feel you must."

Quickly as her fury had begun, the Leanan Sidhe grew quiet. A low growl permeated to the corners of the tomb as it replaced the rumbling which had shaken the room. A guttural sound, deep and nearly unnatural that hummed and made them vibrate from within. Sarah's heart beat wildly in her chest, her breath coming in quick whistling draws. Everything inside her told her to go, to turn tail and run, but she stayed her feet steadfastly planted on the ground where moments earlier they had ridden out the tremors. Forcing herself, she drew in deep, even breaths through her nose and pushed them out between her quivering lips. Jareth's soul had rooted within her and the Sidhe wanted her to leave, she felt it.

The indeterminable growls began to take shape, forming simple one word commands with drawn out vowels, "Leeeeave!" "Goooooo!"

"Sarah," Jareth shouted above the cries. "Do as she wishes. Leave."

"No," the mortal cried back. "I'm not leaving. We are not leaving."

"She has the power to drop this entire building to the ground Sarah, a catastrophe you will not survive. Please do not argue with me."

"I'm not leaving. There's nothing to argue over." The wind around them howled as Sarah reiterated, "I'm not leaving."

"Get away from my son," a swift breeze blew passed her, pushing her toward the door. Fighting against the shove, she staggered back to where she had stood.

Rushing to her side, the king wrapped his arm around her waist, "Mother!" he chastised.

"Leave," she replied once more.

"No mother. Sarah and I wish to be united, unfortunately, the Triumvirate won't permit it without your consent. It would seem to me, seeing as how you have been unable or unwilling to do anything for me up until this point, you might see your way to granting me this."

More angrily than she had been the Sidhe wailed, "I have done more for you than you know, boy." Sarah thought she heard noises, like a dog sniffing, before the phantom continued, "She's not worthy of you. She's human, mortal! She reeks of it!"

"Father was a mortal," Jareth reminded her.

The same breeze which had guided Sarah toward the door began shoving at Jareth. "And we see how successfully that worked out."

Sarah thought of all the books she'd read. She knew she could not fight he Sidhe but, perhaps she could outsmart her. "Jareth, I need you to trust me. I want you to step outside."

"Have you gone completely mad?" he asked her. The urgency in his voice silenced the activity in the room. "You seriously expect I'm going to walk out of here and leave you alone with the Sidhe so, what exactly? What will you attempt that I haven't attempted a thousand times before? Will you reason with her? It can't be done! Will you promise her things? None of it will matter! Will you threaten her? Because she can cause more fear in you with a word than you could manage with the strongest magic!" Sarah's eyes remained on the floor as she thought of how dutifully she had left him alone with Linda. It wasn't long before Jareth was thinking the same thought. "I will do as you ask of me, but if..."

"You'll give me the time I need, as I gave you the time you needed," Sarah told him sternly before she moved to kiss his cheek. "And when we're ready for you to return, you'll know." Her eyes added the I love you, she hesitated to express in the presence of the Sidhe. As he left the tomb, his fey eye returned her emotion with ten times the sentiment a human was capable of giving.

Slowly he took the stairs outside to the garden and sat wearily on the bottom one where he could watch as Didymus paced nervously to and fro. Upon noticing Jareth sitting there, the fox cried out, "In the name of the Supreme One, the Leanan Sidhe has taken her!" Dashing toward the mausoleum, poised to fight for his beloved lady Sarah, the small fox charged, scepter drawn, teeth bared. "I shall fight anyone, anywhere, any time, dead or alive in the name of milady!"

"Just a second," Jareth said scooping up the enraged guard. Didymus' legs flailed wildly when they left the stone floor. "If anything, I would worry for the Sidhe. Your lady Sarah is about to give her a better fight than I was ever capable of." Gently he set the fox back on the ground.

"And so milady lives."

"Were it any other way, good sir, I would not."

"I believe you," Didymus said with conviction as he joined the king on the bottom stair. "And so we wait?"

"I've found in dealing with women, waiting is the most often employed method," the Goblin King smiled down at his guard whose tiny palms caught his falling head. "Now you're getting the hang of it," he chuckled.

Inside the walls of the tomb, there was no where near the comradery there was outside. Sarah stood eyes tight on the painting before her, locking her stare with eyes that couldn't look back. "You have his soul," the room seemed to speak to her. When Sarah did not reply to the taunt, the room continued on in its sweetly eerie dictation, "Jareth's soul, you have his soul."

A sharp wind whipped furiously around the tomb. Beneath her portrait, the mound of flowers, in various stages of decompose, rustled, battling against one another as they succumbed to the harnessed power of the spirit. Eyes narrowed, to spare them from the spinning debris, as Sarah used her magic to attempt to quiet the Sidhe. This only infuriated Jareth's mother more. A distinct current blew through the tomb extinguishing the torch flames. Blacker than night, it was impossible now to see a thing.

Sarah's back stiffened as a chill ran through it. Temporarily distracted by the loss of light, her magic faltered and she stumbled back, in the force of the gust, against one of the cabinets. Before the Cleric, the mortal would have sworn she felt the sweep of hot breath against her neck, coupled with a low growl. 'You've come too far,' a voice in her head told her. 'You mustn't give up now.' Sarah knew her magic was not strong enough to pit against the Sidhe but, if she could distract her long enough to force her into a battle of wits, there she would triumph. Sarah's knowledge of fey had given her much more insight into Jareth and what she hoped would be enough insight into Leanan Sidhe to bring this situation to an amicable end. She shut out the wind, ignoring the warm stream crossing the back of her neck, paying no mind to the growl. Her eyes fell closed and she pictured the red hot tip of a match, lowering to meet the virgin wick of a tapered candle and that flame igniting a fire. Moments later she felt the warm glow of the lit torches on her skin. She opened her eyes and took in the destruction around her, the chaos. The eyes in the portrait seemed to burn through the mortal with anger and confusion. Sarah seemed positive she saw a sneer that hadn't been there before. "I do," she said confidently. "I do have the king's soul."

"That is not possible. My son has never learned to love."

"Never learned to love from you," Sarah said defiantly from some place deep within, some place she didn't know existed inside her, but she could feel courage bubbling up, desperate to get out. Sarah didn't stand in its way. "You mean to say your son never learned to love from you."

"The Goblin King is not capable of learning to love. He is cold, he is calculating. I am evil and he is evil's son."

"I don't believe that," Sarah bit back.

Before her eyes there were swirls of smoke and a strong odor of cedar she thought, something woody, something earthy and natural. Slowly the swirls began to take shape until striding side to side opposite her in the tomb was the Leanan Sidhe, or some supernatural duplicate of her made up of many shades of opaque grey which seemed to glide leglessly on a breeze, ruffling the bottom of her multi-layered skirt which hung to the stone floor. As Sarah had seen the ban Sidhe of the Northeast sector do, the Leanan Sidhe left the ground, sailing the limited height of the tomb from corner to corner, before her, beside her, behind her, wailing as she did so. When the spirit at last settled, face to face with the mortal, it demanded, "How do you call yourself, girl?"

"My name is Sarah Williams."

"Sarah Williams, do you know who I am?" the ghost asked as it loomed closer to her.

"You are the Leanan Sidhe former queen of the Underground, mother of the Goblin King, daughter of the former king Darien." She spoke soft, calm, hypnotized by the beauty that even her shadow held.

"Don't you mean the former Darien." Sarah's jaw gapped a bit. "You're not the only one with connections in more than one world you know." The 'breath' that carried her words smelled like lilies. "Jareth killed his own grandfather and you mean to make me believe this same ruthless beast is capable of love."

It was the mortal's pace which forced back the phantom this time. "That ruthless beast you speak of killed your father to keep himself alive, after watching his horse and his friend murdered, after I took a blade to the chest to keep it from piercing his skin. I mean precisely to tell you he is capable of love."

"The power of preservation can be a strong one."

"There are powers stronger," Sarah went on, drawing from the well of courage she'd tapped earlier. "Let's look at your powers for instance."

The Sidhe summoned the earth to quake as she had earlier, "Be certain you want to explore my powers before you wander into them child."

"I'm certain," she said flatly. "You have great power over the elements it's true, but I'm thinking of something a bit more personal. You drew inspiration from the hearts of men like water from a well." The room stopped it's quaking.

"You know nothing of me, nothing of my kind."

"But I do," Sarah interrupted. "I've read volumes on the Sidhe. I would wager to say I know more of you than you know of yourself."

"Prove it," the spirit purred, "prove to me you have this knowledge and I will let the two of you have one another to destroy if it pleases you."

"Every man you loved died. Some faster than others, but eventually they all died. Only it wasn't because you were cursed, or evil, or incapable of love. They died because you loved them so strongly their hearts swelled until they burst. What you never knew was that when they died, they died of joy. Overcome by so much emotion they didn't know how to live with more happiness than they knew what to do with. Ian was a good man, willing to accept you and your world, all of the fantasy that came along with it, just the same as I am willing to accept Jareth."

"And it destroyed Ian," the Sidhe cried practically tearfully.

"Only because he loved you truly and in doing that, refused to take of you, without that piece of your soul he couldn't survive here. It went against all the rules to christen him and so he too fell victim to your love. But by then you were pregnant with Jareth. You hoped he would be born a girl. For it seemed the women in your life were immune to the curse, but no, he was to be king. And so you cast him away to Arulan's care."

"Quiet!"

"You gave away your only son to keep him alive. You taught him love that moment, only you won't admit it and he doesn't know it, because you never told him why you gave him away."

"I said quiet!"

"You loved him. He was all that was left of the love you shared with Ian and you wanted him to live, to thrive, to be the king he has become. Giving him to Arulan, keeping him at a safe distance where your love couldn't ruin him pained you so much you couldn't bear it. More than you could stand and so you willed yourself to die, only you couldn't accept that either."

The Sidhe shaped cloud rose high and quickly came swooping low, seeming to go through Sarah's body, filling it with chills. "If you insist on continuing..."

Sarah cut her off as she continued, now practically shouting over the rushes of air the Sidhe was creating. "That's why your soul returned to torment the Labyrinth, why you remain here. Because in all this time, even dead, you long to be near him, to be able to see him. And at the same time you're so terrified to love your son you would rather send him running from your tomb than have one moment's compassion with him." There was a long silence before Sarah's voice fell soft again, "But that's where you're wrong. A woman doesn't love her child as she loves her spouse. Jareth was always safe in your care. You could have held him, raised him, shared his birthdays and kissed his sweet head at bed time. He was always capable of accepting your love. Deep down you hoped for that, you were just too afraid to take a chance."

The Sidhe sniveled, tears staining her grey face. "I couldn't take the chance. He was all I had left. All the evidence I would ever have to prove I existed, all the evidence there would be left of Ian. He wasn't even given a proper grave. I watched Jareth all these hundreds of years, flourishing in Arulan's care. I prayed some day he'd find a woman to love and to love him, but he never seemed suited to anyone, nor anyone to him. He had the same drive for the kingdom my father had and I feared he would turn out the same way."

"But he hasn't. He has all your beauty and Ian's good sense. Best of all he has a heart of gold, one which he has opened to me, one which I gladly accept." Sarah waited for her reply.

As if nothing had interrupted her confession, the Sidhe continued, "And I prayed she wouldn't be human, fearful theirs would be a relationship as terminal as mine once was."

Sarah's eyes grew moist as she felt the pain in the spirit's speech, "I understand," she empathized.

"I'm glad," Jareth's mother agreed. "So you understand why I can't allow this marriage."

"No," the mortal said. "I love your son. We're no danger to one another. I will fulfill the requirements made of me by the Triumvirate, I will be christened fey and Jareth and I will spend forever together."

"Forever, what does a mortal know of forever?" Her fury shook the glass cases to either side of her. "Taking a husband in the Underground isn't like taking one in your world."

"This is my world now," Sarah objected.

As if she hadn't heard one word, the Sidhe went on. "Aboveground you choose a man at random as long as he's able to stimulate your loins and please your eye, but as time wears on and your beauty fades, your robust for life settles into the mundane. Suddenly this man who you once doted on, who you worked so hard to please is nothing more than a forgotten pet, left to fend for itself. It leaves him searching other places for the fulfillment of his needs. Soon the mortal woman is crying on the shoulders of some new male pleading for sympathy in the name of what the former male has done. In your world, Sarah Williams, love is as disposable as tissue. Here your unity with Jareth must be honored for a period of time I fear you cannot imagine. If you're christened, it is possible you will both survive for tens of thousands of years. Do you honestly believe yourself capable of loving him, as intensely as you do now, for all that time?"

Before she replied, Sarah spent a moment attempting to truly fathom tens of thousands of years. Then abandoning what her mind told her she spoke from her heart. "I don't know. How can anyone know? Did you know when you married Ian whether or not he would still charm you a hundred years later, let alone an eternity? Our love may last a day or a lifetime, I've no way to know that, but I know this. I know that when I'm not with him, I don't feel whole. I know that even in the arms of my father, I'm not as comfortable as I am in his world. Your son taught me love when I was a child that could not conceive what love between a man and a woman was, why would I believe that he could not maintain that love for some period of time I can't conceive? When he has been my basis for comparison for all other men since, how can I imagine that another would ever turn my head? You ask me if I know forever and I won't lie, I don't. You ask me if I can love forever and I'm not certain, but ask me if I can live a day without him and I can tell you with absolute certainty that I cannot. He is all that I am, all that I know, I would as easily die without his love as you did. We've that much in common, you and I. Can't we start from there?"

"Start what?" The Sidhe's eyes refused to meet Sarah's as she spat out the words.

"Start to heal this rift between us. You don't hate me, you don't hate Jareth. You hate yourself because you blame yourself for Ian's death. Love doesn't always have to mean heartache and despair, it can be a warm and rewarding experience." Leanan Sidhe put her eyes upon the mortal dripping with sorrow. "An experience you are worthy of, an experience we are all worthy of. If I were you, milady, I'd not waste anymore time with sorrow and self pity, rather I would call to my son, call him into your arms and tell him how you feel for him, be, what until now, you weren't capable of being."

"You mortals are an interesting thing, so wise and yet with so much to learn. So disbelieving in magic and yet so trusting in the power of love, when they are one in the same." Her form seemed to mope away from Sarah. "I can call him here, I can tell him all I think and feel, but I can never touch him." She swept her misty form through Sarah's body once more. The absence of chills did not go unnoticed. "I've wasted not only my life, but my death as well, without taking my son into my arms and holding him close. What have I done?" she wailed. "What have I done?"

Moving to comfort her, Sarah's arm slide right through the smoky apparition at her side. "It's not too late, you can still tell him how you feel. Of anyone Jareth knows how powerful words can be. It would bring a lot of peace to both of you."

"If more mortals were like you..."

"My world would be a very boring place. No two people are alike; otherwise, finding love would be as easy as finding a penny in the street."

Smiling at her, the Sidhe tilted back her head and called out her son's name. By the third request, the king had clearly heard her cry. "My presence is being requested," Jareth said to Didymus.

"Your majesty," the fox offered, "should you need me..."

"I'll call," he shouted over his shoulder as he darted into the tomb.

"Indeed. For I shall fight anyone, anywhere, any time..."

The guard continued his litany as the king reentered the tomb. "Mother?" he called tentatively. "Did I hear you asking for me?"

"Come in son, come and join us?"

Immediately, even in the dim light he saw Sarah's tears, "What have you done to her?"

"Your mother has been perfectly gracious, Jareth. We were discussing our unity."

"I will join with her mother, for I can no more live without her than you were able to live without my father."

"I know Jareth."

"I understand that you have never wanted me to love, but I cannot help what my heart tells me." His running mouth stopped quick. "What did you say?"

"It was never my intention, seeing you without love. There is so much I didn't understand until you brought this girl to me. So much written about my kind in books I couldn't be bothered to read while I fed my fascination for the mortal world. If I am to give my child away again, I want it to be to this woman." Lovingly she smiled at Sarah. "Bring me the scroll."

"But," Sarah moved to interrupt, but Leanan Sidhe quieted her. A simple gesture of her hand and a blazing thin line scripted over the scroll leaving behind her signature. Both witnesses gasped.

Falling to his knees in gratitude, Jareth reached for his mother. Not surprisingly, she moved away. "Thank you," he said regardless. "This is truly a gift."

"I think your mother has one more gift for you," Sarah prompted.

His eyes captured the Sidhe's impatiently. "Is that true?"

"It was my love that killed your father. Burst his heart with emotion he couldn't bear." Her attempt to gather courage was visible. "When I sent you with Arulan it wasn't because I didn't want the child we'd created, not because I didn't want to love you, but because I believed if I did I would cost you your life as I had cost your father his. I loved you more than my own life from the minute I saw you with your father's golden hair and one each of our eyes and a devilish grin all your own. When I saw you, in that one second, I felt something more powerful than any magic, more powerful than this realm, enough to make my own heart burst. I have denied those feelings for far too long. I see now how wrong I was. Consider this my gift to you, to give you the love of a woman, to make up for the love I failed to give you."

Jareth reached for his mother's ghost and only fell through her vaporous form. "She can't touch you Jareth," Sarah explained.

"Never having held you is among my biggest regrets, unfortunately one I cannot remedy, but your bride has taught me something very wise." He looked at her, his eyes pleading her to expand. "I love you son. I have loved you from the moment I knew you grew inside my womb. I have watched you grow into a fine man, a man I'm proud of. Watched you become a respected king in the grand tradition of your uncle and your great grandfather. I only pushed you away because I believed I would hurt you and instead I hurt myself. I caused myself so much pain I couldn't bare to go on in a life where I could not show my love for you. If only I'd realized what Sarah has shown me sooner."

A strange hum filled the tomb, the Sidhe's spirit lifted and lit from within as she levitated several feet above the couple. "What's going on?" Sarah asked.

"I don't know. Mother, what's the meaning of this? What's wrong with you?"

There was peace in her voice as she spoke slowly to them. "I have finally freed my soul of its burden from all these many years. I've set right the wrongs I made in life and now my spirit can rest. The Supreme One is claiming me."

"Mother! No!" Jareth called all the feelings of loss and emptiness replenished inside him.

"It's alright my child. I feel nothing but warmth and love." A beautiful hum filled the wind which swirled the iridescent lights about her. Softly her voice began, a haunting song filling the room as it came from all around them., "In my head a legacy of memories. I can hear you say my name. I can almost see your smile, feel the warm of your embrace, but there is nothing but silence now around the one I loved. Is this our farewell?" The Sidhe's voice grew more powerful as she seemed to sing from a voice three times her size, her soul bared, "Sweet darling you worry too much. My child I see sadness in your eyes. You are not alone in life, although you might think that you are. Never thought this day would come so soon. We had no time to say goodbye. How can the world just carry on? I feel so lost when you're not at my side, but there is nothing but silence now around the one I loved. Is this our farewell?" At her feet Jareth sat, enthralled by every note echoed in her throat, aching to memorize the first and final words his mother would ever speak to him. "Sweet darling you worry too much. My child I see sadness in your eyes. You are not alone in life, although you might think that you are. So sorry you're world came tumbling down. I've watched you through these nights. Rest your head and go to sleep 'cause my child, this is not our farewell."

Further up her spirit began to leave them. "Mother!" Jareth called. "Mother, I love you."

Sweetness filed the voice which had only brought him fear until now, "I love you son and I love the daughter you intend to give me, as I shall forever." Her final word echoed from the stones as the Leanan Sidhe disappeared. The king remained on his knees, tears pouring from his eyes, Sarah's protective arms about him, picking up where a mother's love left off.

As solemnly as they'd come to the tomb, the couple returned to the castle. They had overcome the fear of failure by succeeding, overcome the fear of the Sidhe by standing up to her and now they were coming to terms with the pain of losing Jareth's mother yet again. It had been a strange gift, being given that one moment to exchange feelings as casually as two acquaintances might exchange casualties in passing, void of any contact, void of any bond, void of any real closure for either of them. Didymus watched the way they climbed the stairs, their feet lifting as if their shoes were made of lead. Jareth's left hand held the scroll, now bearing the Sidhe's signature, his right held Sarah's hand securely. Over her right shoulder, Sarah glanced at the tiny fox, her lips curling in what she had meant to be a reassuring smile. Unfortunately the gesture did no more to comfort Didymus than it did to comfort the mortal.

It would have only been a half truth to say she understood his sullen mood, for she wondered as she lagged beside the king why he wasn't at least somewhat pleased they could now go to the Triumvirate with the signatures they had collected and the plan Sarah had devised. With just one more stroke of luck they would be united. What was one more piece of luck? It had been shining in their favor all this while through worse than facing the Triumvirate. Then she couldn't help but wonder if the same cruel fate which had managed to keep hold of her life up until now was setting her up for the ultimate irony: to come so far only to fail. And with that notion, she not only understood why the idea didn't pull Jareth from his doldrums, but she joined him there.

Even when they reached the castle their faces hung as long as their shadows. Arulan was first to greet them in the main hall. "Mercy!" she called as they entered the huge double doors. "Don't tell me you weren't able to get a signature." Her arms wrapped about the woman attached to the king. "Not after all the two of you have done. It mustn't be."

Jareth handed her the scroll so Arulan could examine the emblazed signature. "No Arulan, we got what we set out for."

Realizing then there was something more to his mood than at first she had thought, Arulan looked to Sarah who nodded her approval and the elf took Jareth by the hand, "Come with me." Her instructions were swift and nonnegotiable.

Shuffling him inside the nearest sitting room, Arulan forced Jareth into a chair. "I haven't the time for these things," he said as he tried to leave.

"You'll make the time," Arulan insisted as she pulled a chair where she could face him nose to nose. "When the subject of your mother arises you manage one way or another to turn it around so that she is more a consequence of the conversation rather than the topic of it, that is when you can be bothered to have the conversation at all. So before you object or lie to me about the millions of other things you've better to do, know I have no intention of allowing you to leave this room without your having had a proper discussion. 'M I clear?" Weakly the king nodded. "Right then. Now that we've come to some sort of an agreement, why don't you begin by telling me what happened today."

"We went to the tomb," he began recounting the tale. "I did not have great expectations for our visit. Mother never enjoyed my company, you know this. As she usually does, she attempted to send me from the tomb. Sarah's having my soul only added to her unhappiness and she attempted to frighten her away as well."

"But she stayed?"

"Had you any doubt?" Arulan smiled as the Goblin King replied to her question with one of his own. "If I hadn't, with my own eyes, witnessed her courage I'd have thought myself boasting her talents, but I used one of my crystals, to be certain she was alright. Her shoulders were square and she spoke with great authority. A summation on my part, as I didn't want to risk mother overhearing, but her eyes told me. They showed no fear, no submission. A piece of me grew proud while a piece of me grew protective of my mother, torn between seeing the Sidhe hurt and seeing Sarah beaten."

Arulan's hand reached to comforted the king. "Anyone in that situation would have been equally torn," she sympathized as she stroked his sleeve. "Don't you think it was difficult for me to see you and Sarah struggling even though I knew the two of you would be happy in the end?"

Jareth's face grew serious, "This is a bit different. Knowing that someone will suffer for a definitive period of time only to be rewarded by triumph is not the same as knowing someone you love must lose so that someone else you love can succeed."

In silence she rethought his statement, 'You've never said you loved her before, your mother I mean."

"That's exactly it Arulan," his hand caught hers and held it tightly. "I was given a gift. I don't mean to compare it to the signature which will hopefully lead to my uniting with Sarah, and so I shan't say it is better or bigger, but it is most certainly a gift I have waited longer for." He left his seat and strode proudly around the tiny room. "And what a perfect treasure bestowed on me by my betrothed, for she freed my mother, freed the Sidhe of her constraints to this realm and sailed her into heaven, bathed in golden sun which emanated from within, a radiance I never had the pleasure to see grace her before."

"Oh Jareth," the elf sighed as she came to his side, "you got to see your mother."

"Not only see her," tears wet his eyes, "but speak to her. "She told me how she has always loved me, how she gave me away because she was afraid to hurt me and how Sarah made her realize what foolishness that was."

Arulan's heart broke. If she hadn't understood him before, she understood him now, for her own heart was torn between joy that the Sidhe had finally professed her love for her son and resentment for the same. "That's," she stuttered, "that's wཕཕཕwཕཕཕwonderful."

Taking Arulan in his arms, he smoothed her silken hair, "You'll always be the one to have raised me," he reassured. "No matter what atonement is made now, I will forever know it was you I owe for making me the man I am." Unable to speak, Arulan wept madly into his mop of fringy blonde hair. "You couldn't possibly believe hearing mother profess her love for me has made me love you any less, think you any less a mother to me?"

"But she is your mother Jareth. I can never be your mother and I shouldn't have allowed myself to believe anything to the contrary." Tiny fingers flung away tears from her eyes, "Oh but I do. I love you as if you were my own and but for the failure to recollect your stirring inside me, I believe you mine. But you were never mine to claim."

"Arulan, my dear woman, no one is ever anyone's to claim." His leather clad hand rose her chin forcing her eyes to meet his full on, "But I freely consider myself your son, as equally, if not more so, for having tolerated me all these many years as I consider myself the Sidhe's son for her carrying and birthing me. I choose you for my mother, does that mean nothing compared to you having a right to me?"

Her lips pressed hard against his cheek, "It means everything," she acknowledged. "More than words could ever express." It was then the king broke down, falling to his knees, his head against her apron, his emotions afloat on the rivers which poured from his eyes. "I'm sorry dear, sorry that your mother didn't know better, sorry that you lived so many years without her and wondering over all the many things which must plague your conscious. And I am sorry that today you must face these feelings when you should be rejoicing in your love for Sarah, but I remind you, there is a woman out there who loves you fiercely and needs to be reassured you love her in the same passionate way. Let her into your heart, even this dark part, and let her help heal you. She yearns to be your anchor. Do not follow in your mother's footsteps of loving at a distance."

Jareth stood and allowed quaking legs to care him to the door, the knob of which turned slowly beneath the shaking hand of the Goblin King. This mortal woman had changed so many things and now it seemed she would strike again, this time forcing him to open wide his long closed heart and exposing feelings of love and abandonment he'd been content to ignore. Through the smallest crack in the door jamb, Jareth looked out to see Sarah pacing the hall, the thumbnail of her left hand being riveted by her teeth. Undoubtedly Sarah worried over him. Her face dipped sorrowfully making it easy for him to see what Arulan was talking about when she mentioned Sarah's need to know Jareth's passion for her. Swallowing hard, he moved into the hall, closing the gap between the two of them symbolically.

"Sarah," he called. Rushing her hand back to her side, the woman turned to him and tried to smile. "Sarah, I've a number of things I'm forced to deal with, personally, because of this meeting with my mother and I was wondering..."

Before he could finish, she interrupted, "Sure. I can take a walk through the garden or perhaps Deverell has some new book or task to busy me with."

"I was wondering if you wouldn't mind sitting and talking with me a while?" the king asked.

"Me?"

"Of course you. Who else would I wish to share the most personal details of my life with."

"Me!" Sarah practically ran into his arms, flinging her hands about his neck, "me," she repeated her voice filled with all the wonder of a child on Christmas morning.

"You love, always and only you." His warm lips folded over hers and massaged them sweetly. Arulan watched their tender exchange which continued in a passionate give and take while they ascended the stairs.

They lie on the bed, between them a tray of cheeses, breads, fruits and spreads, a bottle of wine and two glasses. The long, silky, burgundy nightgown Sarah had switched in to pooled around her ankles as she lie on her side, her hand supporting her head, her eyes locked with Jareth's. Magic replaced his formal garb with black pajamas as he draped over the bed facing his mortal. Exposing his emotions to her had tired him quickly. They fed each other various combinations from the array between them and drunk, the cool, sweet nectar of the wine seeming to replace the energy they exhausted.

"Sarah," the king asked slowly, "what would make you love an emotionally retentive, overbearing, pretentious bastard like me?"

Finishing her glass, the mortal held it out over the edge of the bed, only her thumb and forefinger grasping the rim. "Well," she began as she let loose the glass, which did not fall, but rather hovered in the air. A flick of her wrist and the glass began a slow migration to the side table behind her. "Those are your good qualities." Smiling, she tapped her index finger in the air as the tray rose and went to join her empty glass. "But you forgot to mention that you were also rich, powerful, devastatingly handsome and..."

The Goblin King allowed what was left in his glass to slide down his throat replacing the dryness his mortal had put there and enabling him to inquire, "And?" as he rose an eyebrow.

"Incredibly," she inched her body closer to his, "good," her hand stole away his glass and sent it to join the rest of what she'd cast away, "in," tight against him now, she fed her arms around his neck filling her hands with his untamed locks, Sarah's lips so close to his own he could smell the wine on her breath, "bed," she finished breathlessly as she took his lip between hers, nibbling gently at its fullness. As unable now as Jareth ever was to resist her, he opened his mouth to receive her. She was tender in the way she kissed him as if her lips were rose petals trembling in the fall air and his the ready ground, waiting to collect them as they fell.

His bare hands ran over the silk of her gown, cool to the touch, still able to feel her burning skin beneath them. Moving along the curve of her spine to the roll of her hips, the king pulled her closer. Against him she was the breeze, making his lithe body bend and dance for her. As her magic had taught her control of the elements, so that control seemed to spill over unto him until the mighty king was no more than a marionette among her play things. Cursing her skillful fingers, he surrendered to her touch. Damning her masterful lips he succumb to her kiss. His tongue tasted her, a blissful remnant of strawberries soaked in liquor still fresh inside her mouth. With a normally high tolerance for alcohol, the king was amazed at how she made him drunk, then as though the cool breeze had reversed with winter's stiff revenge, Sarah's mouth tore from Jareth's, her look stiff and uneasy, a silence between them.

"When did you learn levitation?" Jareth asked, breaking the awkward void.

Looking down at the mattress, she muttered a reply. "Been practicing."

Lifting her chin, his face filled with concern, he asked, "What's got you so uneasy, love? A moment ago you were all confidence and now a shrinking violet. Something I said?"

"All you've said," she admitted. "I've no right expecting you to forget what's happened today, toss aside all the heartache seeing your mother has brought up in you only to satisfy myself."

He chuckled as she looked at him in confusion. "Haven't you learned by now." Firmly he clutched her in his arms, her head rested beneath his chin, "You are my life, my joy and when I am at my most grey I rely on you, on your love, to bathe me in your sunlight. Satisfying you elates me, making love to you is a gift I never thought I would receive, to know you desire me a comfort." Tenderly his lips kissed the top of her head.

Fighting to keep from crying, for no one had ever spoken to her as eloquently as he, as delicate and as personal as he seemed to be able, Sarah stretched out her neck and breathed in his essence, a warm scent with an earthy base, woodsy, musky, ethereal. Everything about him excited her, not just physically, but mentally. At times when he was no where near the castle, beyond her vision, let alone beyond her reach, the thought of him was enough to make her ache. His pale skin, cool against hers, his embrace secure. With him she would always feel safe, with him she would always know she was loved.

Keeping his eye, was the scar on her alabaster skin where the blade she'd taken had stuck. It could be argued such a mark took away from her perfection, but it could be argued as adamantly the scar was a mark of true love and only added to her beauty. Jareth was a proponent of the latter.

Right arm behind his shoulder, Sarah twisted a long piece of his hair between her fingers. "I wish I could find words such as yours to tell you how I feel."

"Your words touch me as deeply regardless of how you believe they sound. They fall from those perfect lips," he explained, kissing her quick, "and they generate in this warm heart." His hand swept over her chest.

'From the heart,' she thought as she swallowed hard. 'Please," she prayed, 'don't let my mouth screw up what my heart knows all too well.' Sarah's fingers wrapped around the hand on her chest. "My king," she began, not knowing what was going to follow. "My sweet, amazing king. All I know of love I learned from you without ever realizing I had. For love is but magic, and you are magic; therefore, you are love. Thank you," her hand cupped his cheek. "Thank you for waiting for me to grow into this woman that you love, for having faith in me when I had none in myself." Sarah choked on her words. "I never knew a man could make me feel this way, I never dreamed that making love could be so expressive and the future has never seemed to me so limitless. You free me of all my mortal constraints and when I am free I wish only to belong to you."

Tears fell from the Goblin King's eyes, plunking on her skin and staining it a darker shade. Lifting her head, Sarah sweetly kissed away his tears. "A fey fights all his life to keep from being caged, but you have caged me and I do not try to run."

"A human fights all her life to be free, but in all my life I have never wanted for anything more, than I want to be yours," she replied.

It wasn't until they lie there, both too weak physically and emotionally to pull apart, that Sarah noticed the weight of him on her. His body was heavy and warm, his heart beat wildly in his chest, his breath seeming to condense on her neck, and yet, she had never felt more contented, more at home than she ever had before. She shifted beneath him until they were spooned in the bed, in the harbor of his arms, Sarah took her rest.


	38. Chapter 37

**CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN - HONORING TRADITION**

Something this monumental hadn't happened in the Underground in as long as any of its inhabitants could remember. More than just the castle was a buzz with activity. From the Goblin City, through the Labyrinth and to the furthest reaches of the four sectors there was bustle and discussion. Was Sarah to become queen? What would this mean for the Labyrinth, the Underground, its creatures? Many had the privilege to have met the mortal and more still heard of her superior kindness. There were tales of beauty circulated comparing her to the most handsome of women. Her brave attempt to save the king had others describing her as fearless, brave. A perfect candidate for queen, the goblins heralded her when word of her tenderness toward Sari and Balmek had spread. Didymus freely shared the story of what happened at the Sidhe's tomb. When the creatures in the Labyrinth heard of all that had transpired, they were awe stricken. Without having made a single change in this world, Sarah Williams had managed to change the minds of all the residents within its borders. Mortals were not the evil creatures they had heard about in the passed down fabrications their parent's parents had kept up. Finally, there had been some acceptance of the humans which had only been monsters during the time of the raids, all that is but for a few.

Tiberon had only the Shadow King at his side, having killed off his only other ally and with his father having met his ugly death upon the same blade he'd wielded centuries earlier. Now the Representative faced inquisition and investigation by the Triumvirate, possibly the loss of his title, if not his life. Within the walls of his small castle, he stewed, pacing the floor, wearing thin the carpet beneath his feet. This was not how things were supposed to be. He was to orchestrate their pain and instead they planned their bliss. They were to bow to him, cower in his presence, but instead their grip tightened on the throne. Where was the justice? The Shadow King sat, slung over the arms of Louis XVI style chair. "Is this how you propose to deal with all that has transpired since the mortal came?" he asked as he dug beneath his fingernails with the pointed edge of a letter opener.

Tiberon's eyes fell upon him with all the sharpness of a sword's tempered steel. "You've some suggestion undoubtedly?"

"And so I do," he agreed tossing the now useless instrument up and over his left shoulder. The letter opener clanked against the hard floor. "Exchange this pity for vengeance, turn in your woe for jubilation, replace your subordination with control." The Shadow King circled Tiberon, daring to stare down at him, the fey who had housed the exiled portion of the Goblin King and yet he dared to condescend to him. "Where's that fire that burned in your eyes only a month ago when you were filled with determination to dethrone the bastard who killed your father?"

"It died when he died," Tiberon replied curtly.

Closing in on the Representative, he snarled, "And that is when the flames should have fanned their highest." In the blackest part of his eye, Tiberon saw a glint as he stared hypnotized by the Shadow King's ability to exude hate. It was an admirable quality. In an instant, the spark spread, igniting the rich violet of Tiberon's eyes with the fury he feared had gone. "There we have it," the Shadow King drawled. "So nothing has truly died here after all, not yet anyway."

The meaning of his slow, well pronounced words was unmistakable. "What do you suggest we do about that, my friend?"

"Mmmmmm," he purred "I thought you'd never ask." A long arm folded around the Representative's shoulder, guiding him toward a seat, his sneer wide, practically monopolizing his face.

The Great Hall seemed even grander this morning, columns stretching between the floor and ceiling, the length of it tripling. Breath echoed in the vacant space as Sarah attempted to calm her frazzled nerves. Jareth's fingers wound around her hand, eager to remind her he stood ever surely at her side. Three empty thrones seemed miniaturized before them. Oddly enough, it was the click of Jareth's heels on the marble floor that told the mortal they were making their way forward, for she had failed to notice her own feet shuffling one over the other. Once she'd become aware of this, Sarah easily picked out the other giveaways, the steadily growing thrones, the echo which seemed to surround her now rather than point at her, and the strengthening nauseous sensation in her stomach.

As if the floor were marked like some sort of stage, Jareth and Sarah stopped on cue. Empty, the Triumvirate's seats appeared even more intimidating than when the prestigious elders occupied them. Sarah would not have believed that possible, not after taking the Gavel on, eye to eye, as she had, but it was true. Bare chairs seemed to enforce who was important here and who would be made to wait until such time as they were deemed worthy by the mighty ones. It wasn't the Cleric she feared. His support had been hers from the first day. Not the Sage, for he was easily swayed and would trade allegiances as easily as blinking. Even the Gavel failed to tremble the heart in her chest. She had brought him to his knees once and if need be she could most likely do it again. Anticipation on the other hand, anticipation made her palms clammy, her brow sweat cold. The mortal mind was quick to succumb to inanimate emotion rather than the tangible enemy.

Clouds of smoke filled the chairs, forcing Sarah to blink her eyes a number of times to be absolutely sure it wasn't some misconstrued interpretation made by her mind, induced by her nerves. Half a dozen blinks and the amorphous mists began to take form, the friendly eyes of the Cleric, the sideways stare of the Sage and the judgmental glare of the Gavel. "Ms. Williams," the Gavel spoke first as always, "Nice of you to join us."

Shaking knees gave way to a slight curtsey, "My pleasure," she stammered.

"And your majesty," he said with a far cry more respect than he typically showed, "always good to see you."

"Likewise Gavel, I'm sure," he replied in an attempt to hide his suspicion. Jareth's hand covered his sternum as he bowed to the Triumvirate. "Cleric, Sage," he acknowledged them individually and then generally he added, "'tis good hearted of you all to agree to see us this morning."

"Ah," the Cleric sighed, "and what a lovely morning it is. Have you seen? Why the sun seems to coat the entire realm this day, the whole Underground and all our smaller kingdoms, blanketed in gold." He seemed to only go on about the splendid sun without any real focus for his praise.

"I'm sure there are more pressing matters than the forecast these two would like to make way with," the Sage pointed out.

"Indeed," the Gavel concurred. His hand extended, "The scrolls if you don't mind."

From his side, the Goblin King hoisted the sack containing the scrolls they'd been given what seemed like ages ago now for all they had weathered. He couldn't help but notice as he approached the Triumvirate the significant difference in their weight between then and now, how much lighter and more manageable those scrolls were with signatures upon them. A smile reshaped his normally indeterminate face as he handed off the sack. "Many thanks," the Gavel told him most obligatorily. The king nodded and returned to his mortal's side. "Let's have a look then, shall we. If the rumors which make their way up this mountain these days are true, you've successfully obtained the signatures necessary to proceed with this hearing."

At the realization of the Gavel's admission of their success, partial success anyway, Sarah let out the breath she'd been holding in, her shoulders relaxed a little and she allowed her toes to uncurl. She noticed an ease in Jareth's posture too, but quickly reminded herself there was more to meet their approval than just the authenticity of the scrolls. For good measure she recurled her toes.

Producing a crystal from one of the folds in his robe, the Gavel swept it over the signatures on two of the scrolls. "Ms. Williams, I see neither of your legitimate parents objected to this union, nor your father's current wife. I admit to my surprise at this. I won't pretend I didn't do my research when it came to your first visit here and I'm well aware of exactly how ill received your talk of the Underground was when you returned home."

"That was a number of years ago, your highness," Sarah noted, showing no reaction to his blatant invasion of privacy. "If I might say, I've matured a fair deal since then, as has my father." Skeptically he watched her, waiting for her to remark on Karen or Linda. Not wanting to disappoint she added, "Fortunately, mother and Karen have failed to mature in the slightest and so it was no strain, in particular, to have them quickly disregard their responsibilities for me, at least the responsibilities you think they ought to have."

"I see." The Gavel cleared his throat and then turned each scroll to either side waiting as both the Sage and the Cleric nodded their consent to each signature which took on a certain illuminated quality after being swept by the crystal. "Perhaps it's best if you not share with me the means by which you obtained these," he cautioned her. "What you may not realize is while these signatures are authentic, they must be given freely and so if you've obtained them under some sort of, shall we say, duress, it is within my power to refuse the consent." His eyebrow rose to accentuate his point as he looked down his nose at the two of them.

Jareth moved to speak, but the Cleric hushed him with an upheld palm. Gently he whispered into the king's mind, 'Not so fast my son. The Gavel kept to his word and trusted the two of you to behave appropriately. I on the other hand became curious, if you will. I know what Linda Williams agreed to and trust me when I tell you the Gavel would not look upon this as favorably.' Jareth had well since made the arrangements to have the remainder of what he'd promised Linda sent Aboveground and so the Cleric's warning, subtle as it had been caused the king to nod and swallow his words.

Closing the matter was Sarah's reply, "I assure you Gavel, responsibility for me has never been something to plague my mother. Likewise, it is a burden Karen would have as soon relieved herself of years ago. It's the one commonality between them."

"And the Sidhe," he went on as if he'd never been interrupted, "she conceded." Talk of Jareth's mother quickly drew his attention from the quiet communication of the Cleric. "Of all, this surprises me most. The Leanan Sidhe was never agreeable in life, you can imagine why I wouldn't expect death to change that." Again the crystal swept the scroll causing the signature to glow as it had when first it had been laid upon the parchment.

"You've no idea how much death has changed my mother," Jareth proclaimed.

"Indeed, as it seems to have done for you as well," the Sage noted.

Jareth tightened his gloves around his curling fingers, "I beg you not speak of that which you know nothing of."

"Pray tell," the Gavel led.

"It will suffice your needs to know that mother has since found her peace. The Sidhe's spirit shall no longer reside in our realm."

"Praise the Supreme One," the Cleric said as he bowed his head.

The Sage followed his lead only to have their moment of solace torn apart by the Gavel's quick reply. "All the better," he grunted.

The king held his tongue. He would not risk all now, when they were so close, by succumbing to his quick and heated anger. "It is a blessing, I won't deny that. A blessing not easily understood by the living. She felt no pain and yet she knew suffering. There's an end to that now and it is right," he narrowed his eyes upon the Gavel pointedly and yet with respect, calmly he continued, "for us to give thanks."

No more than a raise of the eyebrow lifted weakly, almost as if he were saying, 'Am I to experience some guilt because of what you've said?'

"Let's not get distracted by our differing view points," the Cleric tried to refocus the meeting taking place. "We've come together, all, for the same purpose, it would be my recommendation we stick at it."

"Indeed," the Sage agreed.

Tossing all but one of the scrolls aside, the Gavel concurred. "Miss Williams?" he inquired as his eyes scanned line after line of what Sarah had poured from her heart and scrawled as neatly by her hand as such a quick coming idea could be. "Do you seriously expect we will consider this rubbish?" A hearty laugh topped off his comment.

His remark shocked her. Was it not only weeks ago they had shared tea in the garden with his family? Had they come to no understanding that day? "I had thought," Sarah replied smartly, "you might at least share the rubbish, as you say, with your constituents prior to making your ruling on it." The Gavel's face easily showed his displeasure at her keen observation.

"I say good man, she's got one on you there," the Cleric chuckled as he extended his arm, his palm up, ready to accept the scroll. "I'll have a once over if you don't mind."

"No, not at all. Go on," the Gavel slammed the scroll into his co-chair's hand. "Waste your time."

"I've wasted more time on far more trifling matters in my many centuries, I dare say," he declared as he unrolled the parchment. A few times he could be heard mumbling the words aloud, a wide smile upon his face, the wonder of a child in his eyes. "I wouldn't say this is rubbish, Gavel."

"And what would you deem it then?" he asked.

The Cleric chose his words with care, "A vast undertaking, requiring patience, determination and a knack for social grooming. All characteristics of someone I would expect one to possess if one was to be capable of doing such things as, oh I don't know, regenerating an entire realm, humbling a Goblin King, those sorts of things."

The scroll was snatched immediately from his fingers. "What say you?" he asked, handing it immediately to the Sage. Everyone knew they must concur unanimously, what not everyone knew is that conditions await which made even the Gavel cringe.

As had the others, the Sage read the utopian ideas Sarah had authored upon the parchment and submitted for their approval. There was as much merit to her attempt as there was comedy. "To be fair, Cleric, there is a huge impossibility to this blueprint."

"Right then, citizenship denied," the Gavel interrupted.

"But Gavel, to be equally as fair, the overall concept, were it to go as designed, would be a significant and positive change for the Underground."

"Were it to go as designed," the Gavel spat the Sage's words back at him. "Listen to what you're saying. Good can only come of this plan of hers should it work and the likelihood of that is as great...as great as..." The Gavel was left stumbling to complete his comparison.

"As great as the likelihood this realm would see a full blood mortal christened fey," the Sage read into his thoughts.

"As great as the likelihood that a mortal would have so successfully completed the steps necessary to be considered for christening." the Cleric added.

"As great as any of those," the Gavel finished.

Stepping forward, Sarah took her fate by the reigns, "Pardon me. I don't mean to display pride, nor do I intend to boast of my accomplishments; however, if I'm to be judged once more today as you have judged me here in the past, then base that judgment upon what I have done. I've no control over what has never been done before me, nor much control over what can be done with a future I've yet to live. In all fairness, in a world where fairness seems nearly nonexistent, why play by what rules have been put in place. You're a people content to leave things to chance. All I ask is for you to recognize the chances I have taken, to acknowledge my chances have ended well thus far and to believe I'm worth that chance again."

"Goblin King," the Gavel drew his title from between clenched teeth, "have you read of the young mortal's plan for your kingdom."

"I have," he smiled broadly.

"And do you wish to chance your kingdom to her half-witted idea?"

"I have already left my life and my heart to her chance. My kingdom means nothing to me should she not be in it and so my choice is made. Precedence be damned, I leave my future to chance."

"Your faith in one another, no matter how fool hearty impresses me. Cleric, you stand by your support of these two?"

"Aye," he answered the Gavel.

"Sage, more specifically than you have previously replied, what say you?"

"I have much curiosity with this one," the Sage told him.

"You know what they say about curiosity," the Gavel warned.

From the floor before them, Sarah added, "Nothing ventured..."

"An ounce of prevention..." the Gavel countered.

"Enough!" came the Cleric's voice of everlasting reason. "We can cliche each other into infinity if we so desire, but matters more pressing beseech us. Sage, definitively, what say you?"

"I say," he looked intently at the Gavel's cold stare and then at the Cleric's anxious eyes. "I say she stays." It was perhaps the first and most concrete declaration he had ever made.

The Gavel angled his brow, observing the elder to his left with an odd mix of authority and respect. In all their many years of reign, the Sage had never voted contrarily to him. He could continue to make his argument he thought, but it would stalemate for ages. He could concede, against his better judgment and face ridicule should the girl, who had been surprisingly lucky thus far, succeed. In light of everything open for consideration, the smartest thing he could do was agree with them, cite his previous antagonistic behavior as another in the series of trials he designed for her. Bless their union and use this as an opportunity to present them the conditions of their union. Conditions he wasn't sure even their love would survive. "Well it seems I've been outnumbered." Sarah's lips began to turn northward into a smile. "Not so fast, mortal. I could as easily object as concede." Her smile faded. "Nonsense," he chuckled good heartily. "I could no more object to this as I could object to Jareth's Christening. I had to test your fortitude Sarah dear. A test that must be performed on the spur of the moment, a test defeated by preparation."

"Beg pardon, your highness, but in layman's terms?" the mortal asked humbly.

"Of course, in layman's terms, you shall be christened immediately..."

Sarah squealed with delight as Jareth filled his arms with her and orbited the mortal about him. "My love, my one true love," he declared.

"Immediately, that is, after the engagement period." The Gavel's addition halted their celebration. "We discussed this and so your surprise shocks me. We're making such an effort to accept mortals and their ways, I merely thought we should begin now."

"Agreed," Jareth said without consulting Sarah. She clutched his arm, "I've waited for you my entire life Sarah, any reasonable amount of time he would choose will seem no longer than a day," he added quietly.

"Three months," the Gavel declared.

"Three months?" Sarah asked. "Don't you find that a bit excessive?"

"Is three months an extraordinary engagement period in your world Ms. Williams?" She shook her head. "Then three months it shall be."

"As you wish," Jareth bowed. Sarah followed his lead.

The Gavel was amazed at what little objection they were putting up. "And during that time, it will be expected you observe proper relations with one another."

"Proper relations?" Jareth asked.

"You shall remain celibate with one another until the union night. It is a custom, is it not?"

"Well yes," Sarah admitted. "A seldom observed tradition, at best."

"Nonetheless it is tradition and thus I insist on its observation." Jareth grumbled a bit. "Do you wish for the union or not?"

"So that's it! You'll come up with any excuse won't you? You'll choose the most obscure things to deny us until we an call end to this all because you know you stand no chance of having the entire Triumvirate agree to dispute our union," Jareth raged.

The Gavel fit comfortably into his seat. "My dear king, my fair lady, I wish only to set all the stipulations of this union before you so that you can make an educated decision. Far be it for me to wish you to agree to unite only to later find out what you will be bereft of. This is the code of a world I did not create, the law of a time I scarcely remember. These are not my laws!"

"Agreed. The mortal and I will remain celibate toward one another for the full length of the three month period you have set as our engagement. Does his highness require anything else of us?" the King asked as his patience grew shorter and shorter.

"There is just one more thing. Should the two of you conceive during whatever fertile years remain left in this mortal, the child would have a 75 percent mortal lineage. Though that percentage would be recessive, it is still too much chance for us to take." The Cleric gasped audibly, the Sage's head hung, horror even streaked across the Gavel's face. "And so, upon being Christened, your mortal will find herself unable to conceive."

"You mean to sterilize me?" Sarah cried.

Jareth attempted to assert his say on things, "You're being unreasonable! What your asking is animalistic, inhuman even for fey!"

"Now Jareth, I'm only attempting to protect the bloodline. I'm only following the rules put in place centuries ago. Had your mother followed proper channels, your father would have met the same fate."

"You're attempting to make their refusal inevitable," the Cleric argued.

"I agree," the Sage added. "You ask too much."

"Perhaps I do," the Gavel agreed. "But this is the law and still I ask and since it is neither of you who makes the laws, you've nothing to agree or disagree with. Either the pair accepts the stipulations or they deny their petition." His head hung low, his stomach sickened.

In an instant, Sarah's mind thought a thousand things simultaneously. Part of her longed to feel the king's child growing in her womb, to see him marvel at the changes in her physically and emotionally, to watch the changes in him when the baby he nurtured for hours at a time became the child he raised to adulthood. Another part thought, if she refused, she'd be sent home and there she would never love again, let alone find the desire to conceive. There would be all the Aboveground babies to fulfill her maternal instincts, not to mention the goblin children she'd be working with and so what on the face seemed a difficult decision was truly not when weighed.

"Gavel," Sarah said stiffly, "My heart has had enough of being toyed with. Tell me now, mean you to make further stipulations on our union beyond this one."

"I remind you fair lady, these stipulations are not mine. They are the way of this realm and little is to be changed until a mortal can prove themselves. My hope for that lies in you." Her steely gaze told him she meant for a proper answer. "None more that I can think of."

"Then it shall be none ever!" Jareth demanded. His eyes pleaded with the Cleric for intervention.

"Such things are not at my discretion to decide."

Ignoring them all, Sarah continued on, monotone, a heavy sadness weighing her words. "This will be the last stipulation."

"Say again?" he asked her, stunned by her remark.

Stronger tones settled into the weak voice of the girl. "This will be the last of the stipulations, for if you persist in making these ridiculous requests of me, I shall continue to agree until at last I am Queen and then once I hold a throne, together with my husband and the willing assistance of the Cleric and the Sage, I shall endeavor to strip you of as much dignity as you have stripped from me. Make no mistake when it comes to my determination, your highness. I've a knack for succeeding as you have seen." Sarah took Jareth by the elbow.

"You don't have to agree to this. He's being preposterous, we'll appeal," the king said, caressing the back of her hand.

A half smile glowed up at him, eyes filled with compassion met his, "Appeal? In what sense and to whom. They'll only make some gauntlet of impossibility for us to suffer through until it is insisted we rescind the throne to a king appointed by him and live as goblins, among goblins. We agree," she said readily. "We agree to all you have asked of us. Three months from tomorrow morning, you will christen me fey and by midday, the Cleric shall pronounce me queen. In exchange we will honor and acknowledge that which you have asked us to sacrifice." Sarah turned with Jareth to leave.

"Where are you going?" the Gavel called.

Knowing his hands were tied by her defiance, his mind jumbled by her threat, Sarah added, "You know Gavel, it wasn't Jareth's heart born hardened, not his grandfather's blood which made him evil, not the Sidhe, but, and I speak from experience, your cold heart that taught him hate. Think on that when you worry about protecting this realm. Yours is a position of influence, perhaps you need to use it more wisely in the future."

"This hearing has not ended," the Gavel growled. "I do not make these laws, I but enforce them. I have given you every courtesy I could and still you dare to threaten me."

"We've very different ideas of courtesy then," Sarah said as she continued down the long hall toward the door.

"Quite different," the Sage objected.

"Indeed," the Cleric added. Both members of the Triumvirate rose from their thrones and left the Gavel sitting alone in his chair, steaming at the manner in which his own plan had failed him.

"What would you have me do?" the Gavel shouted after them. "I alone cannot rewrite the law. I alone cannot change the feelings established hundreds of years ago. What would you have me do?" His inquiry echoed off the walls until it was drown out by tears he was glad no one saw him shed.

Outside the castle the pathway was lined with creatures great and small, all in anticipation of the news. Ludo, Didymus, fairies and elves, goblins, some of whom Sarah had come to know by name, others who remained strangers to her, breeds she recognized, others she didn't, but all silent as night. From the end of the long parade a voice unmistakably rose from just feet above the earth and shattered the quiet. "Is she stayin'?" Hoggle asked point blank. Eyes flicked to the couple standing still before the doors to the castle of the Triumvirate.

Looking first at Sarah, Jareth raised her hand to place a tender kiss upon it's back before he addressed his subjects. "Fine creatures of this realm, inhabitants of the Underground, the Labyrinth and the Goblin City," a huge pause suspended the verdict. No one in attendance dared to so much as breath. The king did his level best to meet all of their eyes before he continued, "Bow to she who will be your queen."

A wave of cheers erupted through the crowd, flowers were tossed in the air and came floating down around the two as they walked the center aisle between the creatures of their world. A myriad of shouts stuck out at them. "We'd have appealed if they sent you away." "We'd never have allowed them to banish Ms. Williams." "Blessed be the Underground." "A fine queen, you'll be."

At the end of the litany of guests stood one. Hoggle, legs shoulder width apart, arms folded over his puffed out chest, eyes half closed, nose high in the air. "Hoggle," Sarah said to him. "Are you not happy that I have chosen to make this my home?"

At first his look was cold, almost cruel, she thought. "No, I ain't happy!" he scolded as the crowd grew quiet once more. And then his eyes began to glint like diamonds as moisture overtook them and his quaking lips fell into a smile. "My Sarah," he cried, clinging to her form which had bent to accommodate him. "Happy does not begin to do justice to what I'm feelin'." Some of the others began to cry with the two of them, while the less emotional ones rallied in cheers once more.

When at last the dwarf and the mortal parted, Jareth took her arm and transported them home."

"It was nice of them to rally to our aid as they did, don't you think." Sarah said when they popped into their chambers.

Jareth nodded, "It was thoughtful, even if it was useless."

"Useless? Doesn't it please you to know you've the support of your kingdom?"

"I suppose, but it does us little good where matters of our union are concerned. Little anyone can do now that you've agreed to all you've agreed to."

"Why must you be so argumentative?" she asked.

"I'm not trying to be argumentative, Sarah," Jareth attempted to say without shouting. "I'm only asking why you would agree to such unreasonable demands."

"Would you rather I have objected and been sent home?"

"No! Of course not!" The king attempted to hold her close to him, but she spun free of his reach.

"Then what would you have had me do?" Tears began to fall from her eyes. "I couldn't just leave you." She hadn't stopped to consider how he would feel, a king left to be king indefinitely, no heir to take his throne. No son to carry on his tradition. Perhaps she had been hasty in her decision making.

"But he was being completely unreasonable."

"Be that as it may," Sarah conceded to his touch this time, her cheek resting against his pale chest. "I feel fairly confident he was only enforcing the laws of this world, laws which I'm sure proved unreasonable prior to my arrival Underground and laws which will continue to be unreasonable for my entire stay."

"Didn't it mean anything to you, giving up the capacity to bear our child."

"It meant more to me than I can say, yet less than I am capable of describing. I have never been with child. I can only imagine what I would be missing. I know I've dreamt of the day I would find a man with whom I wanted to start a family, but Jareth, if I had told him I would not meet his demands, I would have been sent home where I would never have found a man to replace you or I would have been left here with my mortality intact for you to watch perish. And were we to try to outsmart the laws and conceive against the Gavel's ruling, think of the life that child would have, the ways it would be tortured, as you were tortured all these many years. This is for the best Jareth. Once my plan is in effect in the Underground, we will be immersed in children needing of our care, thirsting for our attentions and we will derive a similar satisfaction from finding them loving homes as we might from raising them. Let us find our hope in that."

"Forgive me if I cannot always see fortune where you find it."

"Can you love me if I am never to give you a child Jareth? Tell me truthfully." Her hands roamed his chest. "It isn't as if I couldn't understand why it would be necessary for you to have a child, a son to carry on the monarchy."

Without thinking, he replied, "In my world a daughter can as easily hold the throne." He felt fresh hot tears burn his skin. Jareth's eyes grew wet with loss and admiration for her ability to find the positive spin most people overlooked. A snap of his fingers and they were lying in their bed. Her silky eyelashes flickered on his skin as she attempted to bat the tears from her eyes. His tender hand smoothing over her back. Arulan knocked at the door and the king quickly dismissed her. "Just tea this afternoon, if you please."

"Nothing to eat, sire?"

"Nothing just yet, thank you, but we shall ring if we require anything further."

"Yes your grace, milady," Arulan curtsied on her way out the door. With the privacy of the wall between them she was free to gnaw nervously upon her nails.

"There is a certain amount of pleasure to be derived from the freedom to cave into our passions at a moment's notice." His lips traveled over her neck, suddenly attracted to this brave woman who had risked so much only to love him. He hoped he would live long enough and well enough to deserve her.

"Jareth," Sarah grinned. She recognized his persistence as a sign that he would easily be able to love her regardless of her ability to give him an heir. "What about the Triumvirate's engagement period?"

"What of it? A very wise mortal conveniently had him agree to start that engagement period as of tomorrow morning. That gives us the better part of a day to exhaust ourselves."

"So it does," she smiled up at him, her bright eyes casting rainbows through the droplets resting in her lids. "I love you," she said sincerely.

"I know, as I have never known another woman to love any other man, I know your love for me. I hope you know I return that love equally, even if I sound or behave in a contradictory manner at times. I am but part fey and part man, neither part perfect, neither part wise."

Sarah's hands fell about his neck, her lips massaging his, "To me you are perfect, every part." With no hesitation, Sarah surrendered to his gentle touch, allowing him to have at her in his own way. The king's hands worked in synchronicity with his mouth to ignite her, covering every molecule of her flesh, until it had been tasted like wine and caressed with loving care. When he had built her to a sufficient frenzy, he slid into her with almost painful slowness. They lie there connected as close as any two souls would ever be, but for the bond between mother and child. Suddenly she knew the depth of his love for her, knew that even if she couldn't bear his child she could fill his life. Jareth made love to her gently, finding every pleasurable spot inside of her and bringing it to climax. When he had sufficiently satisfied his mortal, he took his own release and collapsed at her side whispering sweet similes of love into her ear.

"Has time ever seen a love such as this?" Sarah mindlessly wondered aloud lost in the afterglow of their commitment to one another.

"Not before now," Jareth reassured her, his still hot lips pecking at her stomach, the perspiration from their love making lingering there like dew. "And if it isn't too bold of me to say, never since."

"Since when does the Goblin King worry over what is too bold for him to say?"

Jareth met her smirk with his own facetious smile, "I suppose you've got a point. Boldness be damned," he said tossing back his crumpled mane, his motions took on a melodramatic flair as he pulled Sarah to him. "We've a love like none before us has ever known and as king, I declare none shall know it since." His mouth covered hers swift and tender. "Sealed with a kiss," he added.

As he seemed perpetually capable of doing, Jareth had managed to put Sarah's mind at ease while proving, once again, his love for her had neither restriction nor condition. Thereby she found herself again able to focus on educating the masses. Slumped over her desk, Sarah moaned. Writing a textbook was proving far harder than anything she'd attempted in the past. It was no inscription in a card, no diary entry, no letter to a friend wishing fondness. She'd taken a crack at poetry once, even the occasional short story, once when her acting career had really seemed as though it may take off, she wrote a one act play, but even that did not require as much planning, foresight and perseverance as did this text. At first it was no more than writing out the alphabet, coordinating letters with photos in which the letter could be pronounced properly, which varied so in the English language. Sarah learned this quickly. The soft a of cat was not the same as the hard a in ate. Ate, A-T-E was not the same as E-I-G-H-T, alone or as in weight, which was not the same as wait, W-A-I-T. Words that looked exactly the same but were pronounced differently, read for example, were a complexity that had more recently occurred to her.

When the door opened and Deverell saw her in her current state he couldn't help but chuckle some. Sarah's head lifted an inch or so from the desk and she muttered. "Go away. You were right, I can't do this. I can't teach goblins to speak a language I don't even understand."

"Pity," the king's assistant said. "I had come to give you this book thinking it might help you in your endeavor, but since you've abandoned your cause I suppose there's no point to giving it to you now." Despite his proclamations, Deverell welcomed himself deeper into her office and sat facing her desk in one of the chairs. "'Tis a shame milady, if I may say so, you've decided to give up," he accentuated the negative mortal term, "when so many were just beginning to believe in you, myself included." When she did not stir, her wild hair doming the back of her head and meeting the polished wood of the desk, he added, "Surely the king will be disappointed." Met again by a dormant skull he edged, "Not to mention the ridicule he'll endure for having such a weak minded queen."

It was eerie the way her head lifted, slow, steady as if it were on strings. Sarah's hands smoothed back the hair from her face just before snapping open her green eyes which had gone from dull to fire-like at Deverell's final remark. "You may not say so," she told him authoritatively. "In fact, you may not say anything such as that again. Now hand me this book you claim will help so much."

"As milady wishes." Containing his smile, he folded back the flap on his leather belt. The book was tattered as if it had been used many times, the cover faded from years of opening and closing, being toted about, but nonetheless it intrigued her. Leather-bound in burgundy, it reminded her of another well read book from her youth. "Open it," the assistant instructed.

Turning several pages, Sarah at last began to see the correlation between her goal and what Deverell had brought her. "It's a schoolbook," she cried, looking down at a page used for spelling. "Where did you get this?"

"Was mine many years ago when I was but a lad. I realize it's an antique, but I thought it would help milady pen her own."

From behind the desk she came bounding, throwing her arms around him, she bent for an embrace, "Thank you. Thank you a thousand times!" she squealed. Deverell's face filled with her hair and as he smiled, her contagious joy getting the better of him, he caught a whopping mouthful of the strands. "I didn't think the Underground had schools?"

"You are correct. The Underground has no schools. Education is passed down by the educated here. Through the ages its priority has dwindled, but where I am from, Burggraaf, education is required for a minimum of eight years. That is the first of my texts. The others are to arrive by post when mother finds them."

"Deverell, I can't thank you enough," Sarah went on, now eager to get back behind her desk and start over with the text she was creating. "This is all too much," her eyes narrowed on him in a good hearted manner as she chided, "especially from someone so eager to find fault in my plan."

"My dear woman," he chided back, "would I find fault in she who was to be my queen and live to tell the tale." Slapping his palms off his knees, he stood. "Alas, though I may find your company a sight more pleasurable, my servitude to the king harkens me. Good day, milady."

"Yes, yes it is," she said without thinking and busy went back to scrawling out the pages of her text.

Jareth had fallen asleep hours earlier, curled into the seat of one of the wingback chairs, anticipating the completion of Sarah's daunting task. Unfortunately, she was driven beyond what even he could imagine, and fey had quite an imagination.. To his dismay, or what had been the equivalent thereof when he was awake, Sarah plodded on, long after his snoring had made the bridge from annoying interference to harmonic accompaniment in her ears. And on she worked still, long after everyone in the castle had gone to sleep, long after even the stars had begun to doze.

Morning's light woke him savagely and still she penned on. "Sarah, love, you've gone on straight through the night."

"So I have," she acknowledged with little more than a shrug.

Jareth stooped beside her in the chair, "I don't like when you push yourself so hard."

"Nonsense. I didn't even realize the entire night had passed me by."

She smiled, and had he even a wink of rest it would have better disarmed him, but instead the king replied, perhaps a bit sarcastically, "Though that we all would be so lucky."

"You could have gone to bed," Sarah retorted.

The great yellow mane which in itself was a crown nodded. "And yet, the comfort of my bed is nonexistent without your closeness and the peacefulness of my slumber unknown without your company." His lips kissed at her hand.

"Well tonight you shall not know such pains," she played into his dramatics. One last flair of the quill and she set it to rest in the ink well. "I am finished…with the first text and that should be good enough for now. Tomorrow we'll assemble…"

"Tomorrow," he repeated, halting her sentence.

"Yes, tomorrow. I'm far too tired today."

"Sarah, I don't think you understand. Tomorrow is not a day for work in the Underground. It's the equivalent of a Sunday Aboveground. At least I think tomorrow is the sacred day. With your inability to tell day from night I sometimes meld them together myself until one day flows successively from it's previous into its following without stopping distinctly to mark itself for my benefit. Still I believe it is tomorrow and the shops will be closed and everyone will be hearth side with their families, it would be considered quite an insult for you to call them out tomorrow."

Sarah sighed. "Fine then. I shall rest only a few hours and call them out tonight."

"Can this not wait until tomorrow past?" With almost a pout, he whined, "I'd made plans for this evening."

Her hands cradled his still heavy head, "Perhaps I have been working to hard. Until tomorrow past then." He smiled up at her satisfied. "But then we shall assemble the goblins, choose the instructors and begin to work with them until they are able to teach the others."

"And I shall send your book to the printers for copies." He tapped the ragged stack of sheets with his index finger and it vanished. "There, my part is done, now what was all this about a nap?"

"I didn't actually say the word nap," Sarah said teasingly.

Jareth stood and took her by the hands, "Well until you are queen I still outrank you and I declare it time for a royal nap."

"As his majesty wishes," she conceded as she settled under his arm.

Agreeing to even the most unreasonable things seems like logic if it keeps you close to the one you love. At times the heart finds itself hastily accepting a circumstance it does not yet realize is to become a challenge. Thus were the promises Jareth and Sarah had made to the Triumvirate. Impossible commitments they could no more keep than they could keep their distance from one another. Some had not yet become apparent, for only time would tell if Sarah's barren womb would wake her in the middle of the night, her maternal instincts strong for a child she could not have. Or Jareth for that matter, when centuries of being king had aged him beyond time humans could imagine, where would he turn to fill his throne, but to some inconsequential selection made by the Triumvirate and forced to fill his shoes. It would not be his flesh and blood, his offspring, to learn and do as he had done or perhaps better. It would be a stranger who would pleasingly accept his instruction and laugh behind the back of the king until the throne was made a gift to him. No, those realizations would need time to come.

For now they lie contentedly in one another's arms, the peace of slumber blessed upon them. Martyrs for true love, left a quiet reprieve by fate. Victors in the face of adversity to lay precedents for all who follow. Fey and mortal, man and woman, opposites drawn together by mutual attraction to form a bond stronger than nature, stronger than sense, stronger than the law. All unhappiness ignored by their closed eyes, they went on dreaming, fine dreams, of a future they had not altogether been guaranteed.

Sarah dreamed of being queen, but not in the way one might think a lady dreams of being queen. It was not the jeweled crown or the unquestionable authority her subconscious thirsted for, but rather the permanency, the assurance of her rightful place at Jareth's side. She had not earned it, but then again perhaps she had. Certainly not by the standards of the Underground or the fey women who loathed her when they saw her and for no better reason than they had seen her with him. But in the sense that at his side was where she felt she most belonged, not demonstratively, but physically. Home was no shelter, no structure. Home was where he was, be it with roof and walls or no more than sky and earth. She dwelled in happiness when she walked in the sunshine of his smile. Her satisfaction was the touch of his hand. She dreamt of her true love.

Jareth dreamed of their ceremony, of the symbolism their joining would create. Visions filled his head of knowing, though life may not always be free of difficulty, it would be free of worry that Sarah would be torn from him again, cast into a world which did not welcome him or unwelcome by a world she'd only wronged once. Even in slumber he chuckled at how small it seemed now. All those years ago when a young impetuous girl wandered wide-eyed into his Labyrinth he never dreamed she'd leave it crumbled at his feet. But all she had done since to rebuild it, to better it, made the span between then and now seem no more than a hiccup in history. She would walk toward him, dressed in the finest gown which could be made for her. She would accept his hand, accept his ring as she had accepted him, without question. And only the jaws of death would rip her from him again. Jaws which he felt confident immortality would keep at bay. He dreamt of his true love.

The sun gained position in the sky, stood over them directly and smiled down with all it's might and still they slumbered. Lunch had been served and cleaned away, all without their knowledge. As the sun began it's descent toward the horizon, it was Jareth's painful erection which chased away his all too pleasant dreams and first gave him proof that what is easily made a promise is sometimes hurtful to keep. Instinctively he drew her close, the woman at his side who seemed plucked from his dreams and laid at his side. His lips sought out her cheek and then her mouth. She returned his kiss with as much vigor as sleeping would allow her. On he went to her throat and neck, that patch behind her ear he knew evoked the kind of reaction he was eager for just now.

As cruel luck would have it, his pursuits rewarded him and soon Sarah was returning as much interest as Jareth was displaying. Soft moans escaped her hungry mouth and hands clutched at him insinuating their need for closeness. A roaming hand confirmed his bride was ready to accept him. Jareth rose above the woman who he loved more than his own life and as he moved to join their bodies Sarah exclaimed, "We can't!"

Jareth stopped, all the confusion of a century upon his brow. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," she attempted to say as if she truly meant it. "It's just that we said we would remain celibate until our wedding night. We promised the Triumvirate."

An image of the Gavel flashed in his head helping to deaden his eagerness to claim his mortal. "Damn," Jareth said as he collapsed at her side. His hands pawed her body. "I won't pretend I'm not disappointed."

"I'm just as disappointed as you are," Sarah reassured him, sure that a male ego was a male ego be it in a human shell or a fey one. "I don't want to risk our not being permitted to unite. I can't risk a lifetime of happiness for a few minutes of pleasure." Tenderly she kissed the side of his face.

Eyebrow cocked, Jareth peered sideways at her without turning his head, "A few minutes?"

"Oh alright, a few hours," still he peered on. "An entire afternoon, but that's where I draw the line. Your stamina is not in question."

"As long as we're clear on that," he huffed as he propped onto his elbow looking down at her. "I have other plans in store for you this day, although that was perhaps the best of them."

"I doubt it," she said without thinking causing his eyebrow to jerk again. "I just mean that when you make plans it's rather difficult to determine which of them is the best." She lifted her head to kiss his lips. "Tell me what we'll do today."

"No, it is all going to be a surprise, one continuous surprise. Now out of this bed and dressed by the time I get back with our," he looked at the clock, "albeit late, lunch."

"Oh, afford me the time to bathe," she whined. "I am not as inclined with magic as you are."

Jareth kissed her quick on the forehead, "Ah, but you will be. When you are my bride!" he shouted as he left the bed and motioned his hand to dress himself nearly instantly. By the time he reached the door he was perfectly pressed and hairs in place.

'That's got to be a blessing,' Sarah thought as she made her way to the tub.

"Aren't you ready yet?" the king hollered through the bathroom door.

A distinct "No," was the reply. "I need a few more minutes."

"Were it not that I knew better, I would wager you weren't interested in this evening of surprises I have in store."

"Lucky for me you know better then, isn't it?"

"Gaw! Sarah confounded! Is there nothing my magic can assist you with that would speed up this process of getting ready you mortals seem to put so much effort into?" Back and forth outside the door he paced in long strides. Silence met the click of his boots against the floor. Murmuring to himself he made his way around the perimeter of the room, dodging furniture as he did. "If I live a hundred thousand more years I will never understand women, especially the mortal ones," he grumbled on. "They wish to be wooed and surprised and then when the time comes to woo and surprise them they shuffle their feet." The king indulged in a little shuffle of his own that would easily of had any onlooker in stitches. In fact, it was the giggle from the bathroom doorway which brought him out of his impersonation. What he saw when he whipped around, his legs still at an awkward angle from his dance, his arms still dangling mid-air, sobered him quickly.

Sarah stood posed perfectly, a lilac chiffon gown wrapped around her as elegant as the french twist which held her hair to the back of her head. "You like what you see?" she asked.

"Indeed." In truth he'd not yet made it much below her neckline, but even a quick glance was look see enough to know he liked it. A wave of his hand and the colors of his vest and highlights in his hair changed to match her dress. He cleared his throat as he made his way to her. "You look stunning," he reassured her as he offered her his arm. "May I?"

"You may," the mortal smiled. "You look positively handsome yourself," Sarah admitted as she eyed him head to toe.

"What other way to greet a queen than in one's finest," he smiled. "I thought we'd begin with a nice horseback ride. You're welcome to ride side saddle with me upon Stardust. Otherwise you may saddle your own horse, but it would be a pity were it necessary for you to change your clothes."

"So things are working out well for you and Stardust then?"

"So they are. I owe that to you."

Clutching his arm, they walked toward the stairs, descending them like stepping down from clouds and made their way out the front door. From a sitting room window Arulan looked on, happy they'd found their way to one another and continually amazed that fate had allowed it.

Stardust stood ready by the fence, as eager for the outting as either rider. The closer they drew, the more his hooves rose high, the more he pranced for show before them. "Perhaps a ride isn't such a fine idea after all," Jareth professed. The eager whinny of the horse disagreed with him as a child denied a visit to a park might. Unhitching the fence, he guided Stardust out. "Would I deny you what I had promised he whispered to the sleek animal.

"You've made a puppy of him," Sarah laughed at the way he so easily managed what not long ago, had been a wild animal. "Nothing but a puppy." The horse snorted at her insult.

"Not quite love, I've but unleashed the playful companion beaten deep into his soul by a cruel and unforgiving world. You best of all should know what it is to be made a product of one's surroundings." The king put out a hand to her. She genuflected as she took it. When he drew his woman into his arms, he effortlessly lifted her high onto his steed's back. As if she had always been able to fly, she glided onto the animal and set down upon it like a kiss of the breeze. Jareth mounted the animal in a quick and graceful swoop, snugly behind Sarah, his glove stroked her cheek, pressing her head against his chest. Her arms fell about his waist and hung around him loosely. Closing her eyes she waited for Jareth's heels to dig in and send the horse off in a trot.

Stardust's stride was gentle, though not as stately or smooth as Bagheera's had been, but he gave a pleasant ride. So pleasant in fact, the rocking lulled her into some half state between wake and sleep. When again the mortal's eyes opened wide, it was at the sound of water rolling over rock. Her ears had told her enough that her eyes meant only to confirm. Their journey had taken them to the Northwest. "Are we to have a picnic here?"

"No," Jareth smiled down upon her. We shall ride on a bit further, unless milady is hungry now?"

"Not at all, if it is in your plan to ride on, then ride on." Sarah settled back against him. Jareth stroked her long hair, held back from her face by a fine braid led from either side of her temple.

The familiar strum of a guitar roused her the second time, curiosity widening her eyes. The bard they'd met months earlier, in this very spot, stood playing his face enlightened by a cheerful grin. Jareth's horse halted before the player of the instrument. "Do you recall the last time we were here? Do you remember how we sang?" Jareth whispered into Sarah's ear.

"Come now, for so long I have committed every word, every look you send my way to memory. Would it be at all like me to not recall our first dance?" she asked from behind fluttering eyes.

Jareth chuckled, "If only it had been our first, surely our first dance has not escaped this fine memory of which you speak."

"But it was our first," she went on insistently.

From beneath the jacket he wore he drew a crystal and spun it before her. The image of the silver white ball gown made her blush. "Yes, well that doesn't count. It was a dance done as part of a grand illusion."

"But you acknowledge it a dance."

"I suppose I won't make an issue of it, if you call it a dance, a dance it shall be." She kissed him quickly. "Allow me to rephrase. For so long now I have made my best effort to memorize our exchanges, that I would be remiss to recall our second dance which occurred on this very spot.

"Of course dear," Jareth slid from the back of the horse. "Lucky for me you so vividly recollect that which escapes me constantly." The king's smile was as wicked as it was charming. He then addressed the bard. "Good man, what happy circumstances make it that we might run into you this fine day?"

"You're invitation, my lord," the man replied honestly. Jareth let out a groan at his reply, but it seemed his frustration only pleased Sarah more.

Jareth cleared his throat, "Do you sleep in quietude? Do you wake in peace? Do you laugh out loud at me?" Ironically it was just then Sarah lost her battle to hold back a tiny giggle. "No one else is free. Open up your heart to me," he sang from beneath her. His arms spread wide ready to help her descend from horseback. As Sarah slid into his firm grasp, the king continued his melody. "Show me all you are and I would be your slave." As the tempo increased, she found herself turned and spun in time. "I don't sit and wait. I don't give a damn. I don't see the point at all, no footsteps in the sand." Her smile was wide when Jareth pulled her close once more. "I bet you laugh out loud at me, a chance to strike me down. Give me peace of mind at last. Show me all you are. Open up your heart to me." Jareth whispered huskily into her ear, "And as I told you long ago," his voice returned to it's powerful notes of song, "I would be your slave."

On they danced to their accompaniment. "Much better than that fear me, do as I say business," Sarah smiled into his neck.

"Are you certain this is what you wish for the rest of what will hopefully be an obscenely long life?" Jareth asked. Sarah remained still and quiet in his arms. "I only ask because you seemed to take great care in coming to the conclusion that you loved me. And since have fought so hard to stay here with me. It would put my mind at ease to hear from your lips that this journey we're about to take is the result of your true love for me and not a result of being told you could not accomplish all you have."

She looked at him with quivering lips. "It hurts me you would question my love." Jareth looked away, embarrassed. "And yet, I understand why you should ask. It took me great time to verbalize my feeling for you, but long before I said the words I knew them." Sarah's lips lifted up to his, kissing him firmly and with as much passion as the notes of her melody.

"Perhaps I should question you more often," he chided. Sarah butted her shoulder against the king's chest. Jareth handed the bard a mix of gold coins, thanked him for his time and returned to Sarah's side. "Walk with me?" he asked. Sarah fed her arm through his and followed where he led.

They were headed back the way they'd come, toward the waterfall. Tiny lights seemed to fill the air and Sarah pulled Jareth off the path. "Fairies!" she cried excitedly. "Oh Jareth, let's not disturb them."

"Those are not fairies," he assured her. "Let us get closer and discover just what it is."

The closer they came, the more apparent it was, especially so once night aided them by beginning to fall. Sarah's fairies were no more than an elaborate candle garden set in sand in the middle of a set table. All of Jareth's stealthy accomplices had made themselves scarce, leaving behind only the table, the meal and a bottle of champagne as evidence of their existence. His setting was at the head, hers to his left, same as it was at the castle, in the center of the table a large bundle of flowers filled a silver urn, the surface of which had been polished to a brilliant shine so that it threw around the reflection of the flames and made them seem twice the number. A beautiful halo of white heather surrounded a nestling of honeysuckle. As with all things in the Labyrinth, they came with a double meaning, the heather said their dreams would come true and the honeysuckle told of the wedding to follow.

Pulling out Sarah's chair, Jareth invited his mortal to join him for dinner. Sarah took her seat and turning to join her, the king wove his hand, dismissing Stardust who went around to the far side of the falls to drink. Then he poured them two flutes of champagne to drink with the dish which awaited them beneath the silver domes. There was a stuffed turkey breast, the stuffing made with cinnamon and apples. Potatoes au gratin and a mix of vegetables; squash, peas, carrots, corn accompanied the main dish Jareth rose his glass. Sarah followed suit. "To our marriage," he toasted attempting to show his respect for her customs.

"To our union," Sarah toasted back doing her best to show the same.

"Do you prefer we have a typical union ceremony," he asked as they began to dine.

Shrugging Sarah admitted, "Honestly I couldn't say. I know nothing of the Underground union ceremony to use as a frame of reference."

"I'd have thought you'd have read up on that by now." Without saying a thing, Sarah's eyes told him he was mistaken. "Right, well it's similar to Aboveground marriage I suppose. You will meet me at the Rowan tree. The Cleric will ask for objections to our union, anyone who objects will be dismembered," Sarah gasped, "kidding love. I'm king, no one will be given the chance to object to the woman I have chosen. There are vows, although they are less emotional than the ones you're probably used to hearing. We will vow to live together, commit to one another and in our case, swear that our actions will always be taken in a matter complimentary to the Underground."

"What do you mean in our case?" Sarah asked between bites of turkey.

Sipping his champagne before he replied brought him only superficial bravery. "The vows with respect to having children will be omitted from our ceremony." Silence filled the space between them, until at last the king suggested, "We could easily combine aspects of the two if that is more acceptable to you." Sarah nodded, refusing to break her silence. "Sarah," his gloved hand covered hers, "This is a time when we should be thinking thoughts of exceptional happiness, not dwelling on a decision made for us by thousand year old elders who would as soon leave us to believe it was our choice."

Looking at it that way certainly alleviated much of her self loathing over agreeing to their demand. "I like the idea of no one being able to object," she smiled, "but perhaps something a bit more personal for vows would be in order."

"After the vows, we'll toast once to each other, then with the Cleric. Were any of our parents able to attend, we would toast with them as well, but in our case, just the two toasts." He could see her growing solemn. "Then you'll be expected to walk on your hands backwards toward the castle while I juggle three flaming goblins."

"Jareth," she moaned and shied away, knowing he was kidding her, trying to tease away her worries.

"Just checking," he confirmed. "But pretty much the toast is the end of it. The couple goes home and has their wedding night. The next day they sit in their courtyard and are greeted by a large number of their friends, families and well wishers. Everyone brings a gift, even the poorest among us, do what they can to express their pleasure at the union. They bake foods to keep the couple from having to spend their newlywed period in the kitchen frivolously. They write songs, or bring live stock, rich fabrics for decorating, fine sculpture, some token."

"I think I see," Sarah told him. "We do something similar only we do it the same day as the wedding, the reception follows immediately afterward."

"But is the couple not preoccupied with thoughts of being together?"

"I'm sure they are," she agreed, "but they press on."

"Brave souls," he muttered just loud enough for Sarah to hear. "Perhaps you're right, a combination is the best way." The king took a long sip on his champagne, then began make a chewing motion.

"Ice? In champagne?" Sarah asked.

Jareth nodded, "I prefer cold beverages." His glove hurried up to his lips and he moaned, "Oooow!"

"What's the matter?" Sarah said concerned, her hands instinctively moving for him.

His palm shown open, blocking her, forcing her back into her chair. "It's nothing," he shook off the pain. "Someone's just gone and covered this diamond..." By now his voice lost the tremor which spoke his pain and his warding palms now faced skyward. Into his hand he spit the offending object "...in gold," he concluded. Sarah stared into his hand, curious as to what he was going on about. When Jareth became aware that he had captured her complete attention, he slid from his seat, dropping to one knee before her, the gold encrusted diamond perched between his fingers. The mortal drew a breath. "Sarah Williams," he began. The mortal swallowed hard, clearing her mouth of the last of a bit of stuffing she'd been chewing. "I have loved you from the moment you existed. You are like no other woman of any kind in any world with which I am familiar, and you have won my heart with yours. Fulfill my foolish hopes, bring my dreams into reality and tell me that I may win your hand."

What he offered her was a magnificent princess cut diamond in a high setting. It caught and reflected light from the candle flames as he twisted it only subtly in his fingers. It had to have been two karats. It was certainly larger than one, but having never seen anything of a non-costume variety, she had no basis for comparison. This explained the way he'd guided the conversation to encompass their traditions. Jareth had said the finest things, not only had he spoken from his heart, but he had spoken deeper, spoken with his actions. In planning this, by bringing her here, he was more than saying he wanted to unite with her. The king told of unconditional acceptance, for who she was as well as what. Sarah knew that when she took his token, it meant the Underground would be not just be open to her as a home, but ready for her touches. A mortal mark would be made in his world. A change their meant to reflect the change she had made in him.

Tears blocked her vision. "I'm such a fool," she laughed, wiping them away. "All this time, I've known, known you intended for me to be your life's companion and yet, seeing you there, realizing what effort you've put into this and I'm a mess with these tears."

"I shall cry my own if you don't soon accept," he told her, nerves filling his face at her hesitation.

Fingers found the accents of his blonde hair and traced them tenderly. "I've already refused you once. I don't intend to do it again."

From behind the rock structure that comprised the base of the fall, several onlookers appeared. Sarah recognized their voices before she saw their faces. "Is that a yes?" they asked simultaneously, Arulan, Deverell, Gribbin, Hoggle, and a collection of members from the kitchen staff.

"I can't bloody well tell," Jareth grumbled back over his shoulder.

His eyes pleaded up at hers and a giddy joy replaced her tears. "Yes!" she cried. Turning her head toward their audience, she repeated more loudly and with great clarity, "Yes!" Jareth slid the ring onto the third finger of her left hand, having done his research where this custom were concerned, and scooped her up. His lips covered hers in tenderness that switched to need as he thought about her saying no now, after all this time.

Cheers erupted from behind the rocks, even Stardust whinnied merrily. "For the love of the Underground," Jareth said exasperated, "I don't think I've ever felt as much fear as when I thought you might have changed your mind." He held her head firmly between his hands, their foreheads touching.

"I could never say no to you," she told him covering his hands with her own.

Jareth raised an eyebrow. "There was that one time," he reminded her.

"Didn't I tell you earlier the first time doesn't count." The king thought back to their earlier conversation and roared with laughter as he lifted her high above his head and spun her around. "Yes," she repeated to their merry crowd of onlookers which seemed to crow and had begun to include the creatures of the wood as well. "A thousand times my answer is yes. I will be your wife. I will be your queen."

Friction of body passing over body, kept the mortal's descent slow. A half smile played on Jareth's lips. Meant for only her to hear, he leaned in close to her and whispered, "When I pledge my love to you Sarah, I pledge myself to you forever, quite literally."

Sarah's lip curled and she shrugged with her brow, "It's only forever, right?"

Her head fit comfortably beneath her chin, "I suppose, love. I suppose"


	39. Chapter 38

**CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT - LESS THAN VIRTUOUS**

There was much to be done in the Underground in the next three months. Plans to be made for the union ceremony and instructors to be chosen for the lessons scheduled to begin shortly. All the while Tiberon watched them through the crystals of the Shadow King. Saw them skittering about like mice, late night after late night, scribing and coordinating with printers. Interviewing the most intelligent of the goblins. 'And for what,' he thought. "Curse them, curse them all," the Representative told his confidant when he saw their smiling faces. "For all they need do and as little hope as they have of it working, you would think the least they could do is appear miserable." Tiberon's fist slammed on a nearby table. "I'll kill them all. I'll slit their throats to match their stupid grins and in their likeness I'll show as much joy in doing my work as they are in theirs."

"Ah, there's the master I remember," the Shadow King sneered. "Now it's just you and I this go round, the less," he searched for a word, "adept of us have been eliminated, as it were." He thought a moment, spinning the crystal on the point of his finger as he did so. "We really should come up with a more fool proof attack this time."

"The last plan would have gone off fine if there hadn't been fools behind it." Tiberon huffed in a pace across the room. "Maeve finding virtue at the last minute and sparing the mortal. And my father, managing all these years to carry out his deceitfulness with such marksmanship and grace only to meet his end on the tip of my great nephew's blade. He may as well have gone and killed himself!"

"True our numbers have been reduced by half. Perhaps our first order of business should be to enlist a few more hands," The Shadow King suggested.

Tiberon eyed him up and down. "What and open ourselves up to their failures? No, no one else will fight this fight. We've nothing to offer them in exchange for their service and besides, most everyone in this realm is so behind that magnificent Idiot King and his lap dog mortal we wouldn't stand a chance of finding a recruit."

"There's the Northeastern sector."

"Ranofyr! He's not like us. He doesn't understand the concept of taking pleasure in spite, his twisted ventures are sport and the creatures hurt by them, enjoy the damage he inflicts. If Jareth weren't pleased by things Ranofyr did, the Representative would lose interest in him and return home." It's why he's never done this sort of thing on his own. Tiberon's glove swept over his face. "No, the answer isn't in increasing our number. It's in bettering our attack. We need to be more deceptive, more stealthy than either of us has ever been. Time for you to be what you were made to be. All that is evil in Jareth must be released."

The Shadow King beamed. "Am I to understand from what you've said that I am through taking orders?"

"Never through." Tiberon's violet eyes narrowed fast. "Suffice it to say your orders have become a far sight more broad. Infiltrate them. While I prepare for our battle you'll learn what the crystals cannot tell and when you have done as I asked, we'll reconvene to plan our next step."

"Infiltrate them. You mean walk among them as if I were king! Tiberon I have a new respect for the lows to which you'll sink, turning Jareth's own men against him, why, it's brilliant." There was a genuine glee on the face of the Shadow King.

Tiberon pinched the king's chin between his own thumb and forefinger, "Not just his men."

The arch of his brow told The Shadow King Tiberon meant to conquer the women as well, surely one in particular. He jerked from the Representative's grasp. "I'll follow your orders. I'll get you the information you seek, but in exchange you must never put your hands on me again." Purposefully he tightened his gloves. "Are we quite clear?"

"Quite," Tiberon agreed. 'Clear, indeed,' he thought, 'but mind you don't get to thinking you run this show.'

"I may not run this show, but I am the only one who will, neigh, can help you. Careful what you think my friend, for you know not what the blackest parts of Jareth are capable of. If you want to prepare for this battle you're seeking, you do best to start there. It wasn't Maeve or your father who cost us so dearly last time, it was the fact that you underestimated your opponent and that is a mistake we cannot afford to make twice." A simple twist of his wrist and the Shadow King was gone. Tiberon's head titled back as he released a wail of frustration. Inside his chamber the king had himself a good laugh.

"Busy, busy," Arulan chanted as she ran from the front door to Sarah's office, then the kitchen and back to the front door. "Jareth!" she exclaimed as she ran headlong into him. "Oh bother, your majesty," she curtsied. "I'm in such a rush I can barely keep track of myself let alone all these interviewees of Lady Sarah's."

"Speaking of Lady Sarah, love, where is my precious girl?"

"Here now," she asked as if he had not intervened with a question of his own. "Didn't I just see you in the back with the gardener? I'm sure the gardener was coming today to go over the arrangements for the ceremony." Her face was filled with confusion.

"So I was. But the gardener knew far more of flowers than I did. I told him whatever he had planned would be fine."

"Mercy, what that woman has done to you. Bless my soul, but I've never heard you admit anyone knew a thing more about any topic than you." Her hand swatted at his chest.

The Shadow King in his Jareth cloak made a mental note of his slip up. After he had gone to such lengths as to first observe Jareth in the crystal in order to match his garments, it was humbling to be brought to reality by such a trivial detail. "Yes, well, she does make quite a difference in me doesn't she. Now where did you say I might find my sweet."

"Her office...where you left her."

"Of course," he feigned a chuckle. "All this busy talk of yours has me forgetting what I was in the middle of. Off with you, back to what you were doing."

"Heaven's me, if I recall what that was now." Arulan started off anyway. She'd have sworn she'd felt Jareth's hand sweep her buttocks as she did, if she didn't know better.

The Shadow King slunk into Sarah's office. The crystals had given him an excellent base of knowledge for the role he was being sent to play. True he couldn't watch twenty-four hours a day and the Triumvirate's castle was imperious, but at least he knew names, the castle layout, those kinds of things. Outside her office door, the king adjusted his vest and jacket. Throwing open the door, "Sarah, darling, your king has arrived," he sneered.

One of the interviewee goblins, an older chap with an ability to refuse drink, was flustered by his entrance and began to stumble over his words. "It's quite alright," Sarah reassured him. "Why don't you make your way to the main hall and I'll have Arulan take you to the kitchen for a bite." Dainty fingers wrapped around the golden cord near the door and tugged. The elf came quickly and ushered the goblin out. "Jareth, I know this being apart, keeping occupied with things that need to be done has been difficult for you, but you can't just come storming in here demanding my attention when I'm conducting an interview."

Sheepishly, he apologized. "Forgive me. You're right. I shouldn't have bothered you."

Hearing him sound so devastated pained her. "I know your heart was in the right place. Forget I said anything."

"As good as done," he agreed. "Why if you ask me later, I won't even recall this conversation."

"Perfect. Now come see what I've done." She shuffled him into her desk chair. I've found only two goblins to serve as instructors thus far, but I've great hopes for the fellow who just left. If we can find only three more, we'll be in good shape." Slinking into his lap, her fingers danced over his chest. "You did speak with the printer, didn't you?"

"Of course," the Shadow King lied.

"Good because we'll need those books for next week. I want this to go off without a hitch." By now the Shadow King had made himself quiet comfortable with her closeness, taking advantage of the situation to paw at her body, his hands feeling her backside and thighs. Her lack of hesitation as he crept his hand further up her leg only encouraged him more. Before long Sarah was returning his affections with long kisses, but it was when his hand dared below her skirt she stopped him. "Jareth, our promise to the Triumvirate."

"What have they got to do with this?" the disappointment heavy in his voice, he continued kissing at her neck regardless, his teeth nipping her neck.

"Quite a lot really!" His aggressive nature did not go unnoticed. "I know this vow of chastity until our wedding night is trying, but it is a requirement and so we've no room to slip up. Not now when we're only nine weeks away. Surely, we can make it nine more weeks," her eyes pleaded with him.

Growing more and more enticed by the idea of having not only that which was not his, but that which even the Goblin King himself was not to have, the Shadow King smiled and jerked his brow. "There are other ways for us to share pleasure love, ways that would keep your chastity quite in tact."

"Here! Now!" Sarah threw back her head, laughing madly. "You're a bad influence on me you know."

"I'd like to be," he sneered as he moved in for what he hoped would be another passionate kiss.

Knocking at the door halted their exchange. "Come in," Sarah replied, getting to her feet.

"Go away," the king grumbled into his now empty hand.

"Milady," Deverell greeted Sarah. "Milady there is a project in the city taking place which I think you would be most pleased to see."

"Um," Sarah tried to regroup. The petting session with the man she believed to be Jareth had left her a bit more disheveled than she'd have thought. "I have an interviewee to finish with and then I'd be happy to go into the city with you."

"Yes, milady." The king's assistant turned to face Jareth. "Sire, beg pardon, but were you not only just in the garden."

"Yes," he replied more coolly than he had with Arulan moments earlier. "Planning for my wedding."

Before he could any further describe his doings, Sarah interrupted, "No, no, no! Don't say another word. You promised this would all be a surprise to me. I don't want to know a thing in advance. Not from either of you. Not a thing."

"As milady wishes," Deverell bowed to Sarah. "Your grace," he bowed to the king who little more than brushed him off with a wave of his hand.

"I'm sorry Jareth, but you've got plenty to keep you otherwise occupied. I've got to get back to my responsibilities." He approached her slowly, his hands encircling her waist, his intentions written on his face. "I really am sorry."

"Me too, love, me too." His lips covered hers greedily stealing her kiss. "Perhaps some other day, if I'm lucky." She looked at him perplexed when he left.

Ringing for Arulan, Sarah continued to reflect on the way he'd left. Some other day, if he was lucky? What was that supposed to mean? By the time the elf returned with the goblin she'd still not managed to put her finger on what was bothering her so.

"Milady, are you ready for your guest?" Arulan asked, noting her screwed up expression.

Sarah shook her head, "Yes, please. I welcome the distraction." The goblin sat before her. "I have only a few more questions for you. "Will you be able to commit for several hours five days a week?"

"If teaching pays more than breaking rocks, you can have all my hours every day of the week."

"I haven't much thought of pay," she admitted, "and you are the first to ask. But it shows you're prudent and goal oriented. There will be eight hours a day to be committed to the classroom. Several hours a week outside the classroom and instructors will be expected to get together to establish curriculum during the time the children will otherwise be excused." Until then, Sarah didn't realize how much she really knew about the educational system, but it was promising for her. "What does breaking rocks pay?" she enquired.

"Three gold pieces a week, miss. Enough if you are without children. Just enough if you have one child."

"You're kidding! How many children do you have?"

"Six miss," he said casting down his eyes.

"Six children on a salary built for barely three individuals."

"My wife works. Together we manage."

Sarah did some quick mathematics in her head and then weighted in the idea that the six persons chosen to take on this challenge would be paving the way for a new underground. "Ten gold pieces," she decided. "Ten gold pieces a week for each qualified goblin who commits to teach, but only ten months of the year. The king will never agree to pay for the time you're not working. You'll need to find alternate employment or budget wisely to make it plausible, but I believe you can do it.

Through tears, the goblin's eyes shone. "Yes, miss, most definitely."

Her hand bridged the distance of the desk between them. "Congratulations!"

Tenderly accepting her hand, the goblin, as sincerely as he could, thanked her then turned to leave. From the door he smiled back, "Will be a pleasure to serve you miss, both as my employer and as my queen. You're going to do great things here."

"We," she corrected him.. "We are going to do great things." When the door closed, she let the tears fall.

Deverell was heading to the stables when the Shadow King caught up with him. "Say boy, have you a moment."

"Your majesty?" He asked at the way he'd been addressed.

The Shadow King didn't notice the inflection of a question in his tone. "You've been with me how long now?"

"Not yet a year."

"Not yet a year," he mimicked. "And yet I feel able to trust you. It would be a shame if the rumors were true."

"Rumors your majesty?"

"Rumors, misunderstandings, call them what you will. But I have heard you've been making the lady Sarah rather uncomfortable with your attentions as of late."

Honest shock consumed the fey's face. "If that is so, milady has not told me of this discomfort. I shall speak with her."

"That won't be necessary," he circled the fey, inspecting him with cold eyes, eyes a little blacker than Deverell was used to seeing. "It wasn't Sarah who made the comment."

"Then who?"

"Never mind who. I trust you and that is enough for me. I've put my faith in you and I expect that I will not be disappointed. Simply modifying your behavior so it is always the utmost professional should do the trick." The king stopped to face his likeness's assistant head on. "I am everywhere, in fact, I may at times appear to be two places at once. Do not give me reason to distrust you."

Deverell dropped to his knees and humbly lowered his head. "Never sire. I apologize."

"As you should," the king quipped as he headed off. 'This is enough destruction for one day,' he thought as he snapped himself back to Tiberon's castle.

"Bastard!" the Representative shouted as the Shadow King reappeared directly behind him. "Why must you do that?"

"It entertains me."

Tiberon eyed him, but the king did not flinch. "Have you any news for me?"

"What no drink while we catch up?"

Tiberon poured him a brandy and offered him a seat, "Talk," he demanded.

"Well first I went to the lady Sarah. She is finely grown, is she not?" Tiberon did not reply. "There is a smoothness to her skin that I could easily come to appreciate. Her mouth so warm, so inviting and her technique flawless."

"I did not send you on this mission for your pleasure."

"Indeed. But what a perk it has been," the king smiled. "Since you think so little of my exploitations, need I remind you that it was your idea to include Jareth's women in this." The Representative sat without speaking. "She told me quite a bit without so much as blinking," the king boasted. "It would seem they are scheduled to be wed in nine weeks time and, this is truly the best part. Leave it to the Triumvirate. Until their wedding night they are not to have sex." He erupted with laughter at recounting that detail. "Why if Turgomon's replacement hadn't have interrupted us, I'd have managed to teach her how to bend that rule too. But between that oaf and her being caught up in those damned interviews."

"Interviews?"

"Showing interest at last are we? Yes interviews. Seems Jareth's little token is pushing forward with her notions for schooling goblins. Sarah's conducting interviews with the more educated," the concept forced him to laugh, "of the useless creatures, trying to select the best of the worst to serve as instructors."

Tiberon was now filled with interest, "And once these goblins are selected?"

"Don't know. She sent me packing then, went back to her interviews so she could run off with Deverell to the city for some project taking place there."

"Did you follow Deverell?"

The Shadow King sighed, "No you twit, I went and had tea. Of course I followed him, but not to ask about the project."

"Why not? Blasted! What good are you to me if you don't even know the right questions to ask?"

"Careful Tibby my dear. You wouldn't want me to lose interest in this little espionage plot of yours, would you?"

"Lose interest in my plot, lose your chance at the girl."

"One piece of ass is as good as another, makes no difference to me. The Shadow King started for the door. Slamming it behind him when he'd left, the king warned the Representative, "Let's not forget who needs whom more in this scenario. Keep your eye on the goal." His wicked laugh echoed in the hall. "I should see if the mortal will take me on as a counselor at that school of hers."

Deverell waited for Sarah in the main hall. His mind replayed Jareth's comments from earlier. Had he truly made the lady uncomfortable as the king had warned? It was a concept he had trouble with but rumors were founded from some truth no matter how small and this was a truth he could not have. "Deverell? Deverell?" The repeated call of his name brought him out of his hypnosis. "Deverell?" Sarah called once more.

"Yes milady?"

"The city? You mentioned earlier something abut taking me to the city?" She looked at him disturbed by how distracted he seemed. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, fine. I did plan to take you in to the city, but wouldn't you prefer the company of Arulan or the king?"

Sarah cocked her head at him. "Don't be ridiculous. Jareth is off doing God knows what for the wedding and Arulan is busy preparing for dinner. Now stop acting so foolish and take me into town this instant." He did not rush to her side, nor hasten to begin their walk, but rather stood looking perplexed. "Deverell!" The king's assistant eyed the mortal. "Let's go."

Unable to stall her any longer, the fey, bowed gracefully and led her toward the Goblin City. "So plans are coming along nicely for the schooling?"

"Fine. Just fine. I've selected three instructors and plan on selecting three more. If that doesn't cover the need I'll pitch in until we can get more instructors. The books are due back from the printer before week's end. Everything is happening so fast and yet so perfectly." Sarah fed her arm through Deverell's. "In large part, I owe this to you."

"You have no obligation to me, milady." The assistant grew nervous at her touch. Perhaps he had been overly forward, but then again it was not uncommon in this world to take a lady by the arm when leading her. Everything he did he over analyzed, everything he said he inspected. "I mean to say that you should feel no sense of owing toward me. I expect nothing from you. That is I expect great things from you just globally, just not personally."

"What's gotten in to you today?" Sarah asked. "Normally you're as eloquent as Jareth and today it seems you've been given a new tongue which is in constant conflict with your words.

"Forgive me miss, I just want to be clear that I am your humble servant. You owe me nothing, nor do I expect anything from you. I was happy to assist, it is after all what I do."

They walked on after that until Sarah stopped with a gasp. There, in the center of town, in what had only days ago been a square designed for loitering and sleeping the sleep of the drink stood two mirror image little red school houses. Before them stood Mason and Hoggle, mostly covered in mortar, grins from ear to ear as if they were two school children up to mischief. As though she were blind to all but the red brick, Deverell found himself steering her around rocks and goblins as her steps took her closer and closer to the buildings.

"How did you manage this...this miracle?" she asked, her eyes making their way to the steeples and the copper bells inside them.

"'Twern't nothin'," Hoggle said. "Jareth has a book of mortals that Arulan got me the pictures from and Mason did the rest."

"You built these," stooping to his level Sarah kissed his cheek.

Hoggle rushed to her side. "It was my idea," he added proudly. Sarah kissed him too. "So you like 'em then?"

"I beyond like them. I love them. They are the most spectacular constructions I have ever seen." Marveling at the detail with which Mason had done his work she entered the school house to her left. The door was split in two. The top knob opened both halves and a lower knob, for the wee ones, opened only the bottom.

"There's four school rooms in each miss," Mason offered. I've still got to build the desks and the blackboards, but she'll be ready come next week. Right on schedule."

"Four," she said slowly, her eyes busy with the surroundings. I only planned to hire six instructors, but I can hire more. Yes I can always hire more."

"About that," Hoggle interrupted. "We think you should have one of the rooms, sort of an office away from home where you can keep a eye on things."

"Yes, yes, I agree. It will make it all the more convenient should I find myself doing some of the instruction as well. Then I shall only hire seven instructors."

"Perhaps you'd consider hiring me on miss. I'll work for the same I'm paid now," Mason piped up. "I could teach manual labors. Nothing against what you've planned for this kingdom, but the world needs bricklayers as much as mathematicians. It might be good for a wee one who can't finagle numbers to know he's still a part of our society."

Sarah took his hand into hers and patted it gently. "I think that's a fabulous idea Mason, and I can't think of a fine person to do it." Smiling she pulled him close for a hug.

Repeating himself was Hoggle, "It was my idea." Even if she knew that wasn't necessary the truth, she found room in her arms for him regardless. She always would.

"What's this business?" came a booming voice from behind them. They raised their heads to find Jareth there. "I didn't authorize this construction." The king's sober act couldn't survive Sarah's throwing her arms around him.

"Isn't it fantastic? Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?"

"Second at best," Jareth said. "Arulan told me where you were and what you were doing, quite frankly," he eyed Deverell, "I'm surprised no one invited me along." Jareth chuckled.

The king's assistant bowed before his majesty. "Pardon your highness. I thought milady would prefer to see the schoolhouses with you, but you were busy with wedding preparations and..."

"Deverell, I was jesting. My but you're on edge."

"Pardon your majesty."

"What you've managed to do will aid this kingdom significantly. Thank you," Jareth told Hoggle and Mason.

"You're welcome, your grace," Mason told him.

Hoggle acted gruffly as always, "If we don't start on those desks, we'll never be done by next week."

"Then by all means, I'll let you get back to work." Sarah kissed them each again before she turned, the king to her right and Deverell, oddly enough, walking behind.

Arulan was just finishing loading the serving trays for supper when Deverell slipped into the kitchen behind her. "Pardon my interruption," he said close to her ear.

The elf, visibly startled, jumped back, knocking into the fey. A fluttering hand left her chest and smoothed her hair. "Deverell, forgive me. You gave me quite a scare."

"Sorry miss Arulan. I was attempting to remain quiet more than I was attempting to frighten you."

"I see. What can I do for you?" she asked.

"I hate to ask," he began circling the topic, "but has his majesty seemed odd to you today?"

Arulan chuckled. "Mercy, but his majesty, and everyone else in this castle has seemed odd to me for weeks. Between the ceremony and the schools, it's a wonder we're not all batty."

"But I mean particularly odd."

"Well not particularly." Arulan put her hand on the fey's shoulder, patting gently in an attempt to seem more reassuring. "I'm sure he's just preoccupied with things."

"You're probably right," he conceded. Arulan turned, picked up a tray and started to leave. "Arulan," he called. She stopped and turned to face him once more. As he lifted the tray from her hands, she felt the cool leather of his gloves and couldn't keep from blushing. "Arulan," Deverell said seriously, "do you think, that is, are you aware of..." Anticipation grew in the elf's heart as he continued to search for words which evaded him. "Has the lady Sarah said anything about the way I've treated her?"

"The lady Sarah?" she repeated. Deverell nodded. "No," Arulan looked away, gathered her tray to leave and added, "not to me anyway."

"Hog Brain," came a call down the stump of Hoggle's home.

The dwarf shouted up, "Go'way Jareth. I'm havin' dinner with my fam'ly!"

"Higgle, if I have to come down there you'll regret it," he replied a bit more angrily than he had intended, but it worked, for no sooner had he made the threat was Hoggle eye to knee with him on the surface.

"Name's Hoggle! I thought we got passed all that?" When Jareth didn't reply Hoggle stomped at him, hands upon his hips, "What do you want?"

"As you know, I'm getting married in nine weeks, and you being such a big part of things," he turned completely saccharin, "well I just want to be certain you understand completely what is to go on."

"You're serious?"

"Deadly," he added.

"What's to go over? The Rowan tree at noon. I'm to bring Sarah at least thirty minutes earlier."

"Good. Noon, Rowan tree, you're bringing Sarah. That wasn't hard was it." Hoggle grumbled as he shimmied back into his stump. "And Tiberon will be very glad you've extended the invitation," the Shadow King cackled as he left.

"It was good to see you today. It seems we've both been so busy, bed is the only place I see you," Sarah said as she snuggled close to Jareth.

Sighing, he acknowledged, "It does seem that way doesn't it?" His head fell on top of hers, lips pressing against her hair. "Sarah, you know how much I love you?" Jareth felt her nod. "You know that holding you, feeling you lie next to me, is a joy, but" he reminded her as he slunk further beneath the duvet, "our wedding night, when I'm able to show you again how much I love you, shall be a huge relief." He kissed her tenderly on the lips. "I'm sorry I've been so miserable as of late, so short tempered and, what is that word you seem to use constantly? Grumpy?"

Giggling she kissed at his face, her lips trailing his cheeks, his chin, falling to his neck. "I thought you had some remedy for this not being able to express ourselves," she cooed into his throat.

"Remedy?" he questioned before succumbing to the tingle of her touch. Moments later he finished the thought. "Remedy indeed! Sarah it's brilliant. I don't know why you didn't mention it sooner."

"What?" she asked quickly flustered by his exuberance. "What did I mention?"

"We shall elope! It is after all a mortal concept and the Gavel is so ready to meld our worlds, then we shall start here." Jareth kissed her again. "What do you say? A small ceremony, you and I, the Cleric. I know I can get him to agree. Deverell for a witness. We'll exchange vows, unite and then when this silly engagement period is up we'll have the formal ceremony."

"Do you really think the Cleric will do it?"

"Of course, he's been the only one behind us from the beginning."

"But they'll know, the Gavel and the Sage. If they'll know whether or not we've made love, surely they'll know this."

Jareth thought a moment, "Not so. They may be able to keep an eye on us, but it is forbidden for them to watch one another, hence the Sage's secret. Anything we do in the presence of the Cleric will be hidden from them." Seeing the worry still on her face, Jareth went on, "And when we exchange vows and make our pledges they will ask, have you remained celibate up until the time of your union, when we answer yes, it will be an honest answer and they shall never detect the technicality."

"I don't know Jareth, it seems risky."

"It's romantic."

"It is romantic," she sighed, "and impetuous. Patience is a virtue."

"Then, when it comes to the woman I love, call me less than virtuous."

Patient hands stroked her back, "Come now love, this rule they've made, it's ridiculous, you and I both know that. We desire to be together, nothing will change that and," he paused as genius flooded his head, "on the off chance the Gavel dreams up something insane to try to prevent us from wedding to try and prevent you from being christened, he'll have no choice but to change his mind. We'll already be united and no one, not even he will be able to take you from me."

Sarah buried her head in his neck and clung to him at the idea. "You're sure about this."

"Sure as I am that I love you."

"Then count me in!" She kissed him passionately, "Anything that promises to keep us together is worth whatever risk comes with it."

When morning came, the Shadow King checked his crystal and set off for the Goblin City. "Being part king, it's my duty to observe these constructions," he told the air around him as he headed for the school house. "They're so colloquial." His face bore a look of great distaste. Innocently, he leaned against the brick, one knee bent. Evil eyes surveyed their surroundings looking for witnesses. When they spotted no one. The Shadow King lifted his knee and slammed his heal hard against the wall. Sliding a few inches to the left, he repeated his action, sliding and slamming until he had weakened several spots along the wall. "Job well done," he told himself as he admired his work.

"I'll be gone most of the day," he heard his own voice from the other side of the school house. Jareth had come. A circumstance the Shadow King hadn't planned for. Silently he produced a crystal and watched in as he listened to their conversation, ready at a moment's notice to make himself scarce if either showed signs of coming passed the weakened wall. "I've got to find a musician to play at our ceremony today. Then I'm off to the printer's to send the books home and drop off the template for the invitations. Afterwards, the Cleric has agreed to meet me for a late lunch. I shall ask him over the meal if he will agree to our elopement."

'Really Jareth, you make it too easy for me,' The Shadow King thought.

"After lunch, the tailor wishes to discuss my attire for our special day and finally I will return home to meet briefly with Deverell before dinner. He's been so strange lately."

"Deverell?" Sarah asked.

"Yes," the king said. "Have you noticed it too?"

"I have," Sarah admitted. "I'm glad you'll have a word with him over it."

"So I shall, but I really must go love," he tried to kiss her quickly, but Sarah captured him in close for a more appropriate goodbye.

"Before you go, come in and see the template for the desks. Mason finished one last night before returning home. He asked me to look it over in the morning before he made hundreds more of something I didn't thing functional." Sarah grasped the doorknob with one hand and the king with other, dragging him inside.

"I'm sure you're more than capable of determining this on your own."

"So I am, but I hate doing things on my own. Time may have but it's constraints on what we are able to do together these few months, but that doesn't mean I can't try to fight it."

As they inspected the desk, the Shadow King stepped carefully away from the wall, doing his best to remain silent. 'Fools,' he thought, even more so when he spied the Goblin King sitting at the desk at Sarah's request. It was as if he'd taken a seat at Hoggle's dinner table. Disposing of the crystal, the Shadow King used his hands to cast a magic push upon the weakened wall. The brick began to creak and the Shadow King relocated to a safe distance where he could watch his work. "Ah, being Shadow King has it's advantages," he cackled. "All of the power, none of the conscious."

Jareth's sensitive ears alerted him to the slipping of the brick. His eyes shifted all about until he saw the wall trembling. "Sarah," he attempted to say calmly. "I really must go, accompany me to the door won't you?"

"Stay just a minute more," she pleaded while she tried to sit in his lap.

"Sarah please," he snapped.

The shock on her face pained him, but not so much as watching the shock turn to horror as Sarah saw the far wall beginning to give way. The first fallen brick mirrored in the coal black center of her eye, enlarged to it's maximum circumference with fear. His arms wrapped tight around her waist and both transported free and clear of the disaster. From the foyer of the still standing schoolhouse, they looked on at the rubble and the dust.

"Are you alright?" the king demanded clutching Sarah by the upper arm.

The mortal coughed, "I'm fine. But look, look at the school house. What happened?"

"I don't know," Jareth admitted sniffing the air. He could smell magic, but it was his scent making him believe it was from the transport. "Mason is a fine builder, but this is a construction he has never before attempted and mistakes happen."

"No, I don't believe that!" Sarah cried. "Mason would never leave his hand from a brick without being sure it's placement was perfect. Never encourage me to enter a building that wasn't secure. This was no mistake, no accident."

"Sarah," Jareth held he close to his chest, the heartbeat there bringing her comfort, "I know there have been a number of unpleasant experience for you here, but that has ended. No one means to harm you. They are all eager for you to rule this kingdom. I'm sure there's an explanation. On my way to find a musician, I'll tell Mason what has happened and have him inspect the fallen school house."

"But we'll never be ready for next week," she began to cry.

Swift fingers wiped her tears away. "Come, come, positive thinking has never been a difficulty for you. I promise you, with or without this school house, next week shall go precisely as you have planned. Why if the school house isn't ready I'll donate the hill above the stables for them to have outdoor classes with. The wee ones will love it." Weakly, she smiled up at him. Jareth couldn't help eyeing the still remaining house. "Now promise me you'll find something else to do with yourself, away from here," he stressed.

"I've more interviewees coming in an hour. Perhaps, I'll clean up before then," she suggested as she looked down at her dirty dress.

"Right," he agreed, now seeing his own ruffled appearance. A smooth pass of his hand adjust his wardrobe. "I think that would be a lovely idea. You're sure you're alright?" The king scanned her head to toe a few times and narrowed in on her eyes, searching for anything not quite right.

Nodding she lied, "Fine, perfectly fine." Jareth kissed her once more before he left. "But this was no accident," she said once he was gone.

Arulan took to Sarah immediately when she came back through the castle doors. "Heaven above us, what's happened?"

"One of the school houses has collapsed."

"Collapsed!" Arulan exclaimed.

Deverell's quick feet carried him to the main hall, "What do you mean collapsed?"

"Collapsed. Fallen to the ground. What once was a fine building is now a pile of dust and brick."

"Are you alright?" the elf asked her.

"I'm fine. Jareth was with me. He transported us to safety as the building fell."

Arulan rushed to embrace her, "My word! I'll never understand for the life of me why things must be so difficult for the two of you, such cruelty fate shows you." Patting the girl's back, she suggested, "I'll go and run you a bath. We'll get you cleaned up before the first of the goblins arrives."

"You don't think it was fate at all do you milady?" Deverell asked when Arulan had left.

Sarah searched his eyes. "You've not been yourself lately Deverell, not yourself at all. Your on edge around me and your exceedingly obedient to Jareth. Normally, those things would make me think you guilty, but for some reason, I trust you despite my instincts." He humbly bowed his head. "No one considers the possibility this was not an accident and when I mention it to Jareth he denies it emphatically. No I do not believe this was fate, nor poor craftsmanship, nor a gremlin in the cogs. Someone was behind that house falling whether they meant for me to be in it when it did or not."

"Say no more milady. If I have acted oddly it is because something in this castle is odd, something about this collapse odd. I shall keep what we've discussed between you and I, but in the time between what I guess and what I know, I shall do my best to uncover the truth." He bowed to her as he left, headed for the city Sarah guessed as she headed for her bath.

Asleep in the hot water little of what had been bothering Sarah seemed relevant. Dreams of her impending elopement filled her head, replaced her previous thoughts of conspiracy and woe. Firm hands massaged her neck. Sarah stirred some at the touch, but didn't bother to displace herself confident it would be no hands other than the kings about her throat. For the most part, she was correct in the assumption.

"I'll give you fifteen minutes to stop that," Sarah bargained barely awake.

The Shadow King snorted, "Only fifteen?"

"Sorry. More interviews today." The mortal sat bolt upright in the tub and spun around to face the king, "Speaking of which what happened to all those stops you had to make today? Don't tell me you're not going to the printers after all."

"I just stopped by to be sure you came back to the castle as I instructed."

"You could have done that with a crystal," she said, smiling coyly as she relaxed back into the water.

Breathing a deep sigh of relief, the Shadow King put his hands back on her, the massage continuing forward down over her breasts. "A crystal can't do this," he said throatily. "Or this," he added allowing his hand to dip across her mid-section and plunge beneath the water.

"It did once," she laughed.

'Jareth you clever bastard,' he thought. 'I might have to respect you just a bit more for that.' "Sarah, love," he continued plying her from outside the tub. "It would be no crime against your virtue to allow me the pleasure of handling you."

There was a low moan coming from the girl. "You're insatiable! See what the Cleric says. If he agrees to our elopement it won't be much more of a wait."

"Yes," the Shadow King purred. "Our elopement. When do you imagine that will take place my dear?"

"I doubt before week's end. Oh and I hate to seem as if this isn't terribly important to me darling, but once classes begin, weekends will be the only time I have free for an elopement."

"Surely love, surely." The Shadow King was no novice at these games of deception. "So you realize it may still be two or more weeks until our elopement. Surely you're feeling some frustration." His hands were at her crotch once more, bared hands, stroking the outer folds of her womanhood.

Sarah ached for him, she couldn't deny it. Theirs was a lovemaking that seemed to transcend the physical act and without him to take her to those emotional peaks, she had to admit to feeling a bit grumpy herself. "Aren't you?" she asked weakly.

"More than you know," he breathed into her ear.

"That settles it," she said as she shifted from his touch, brushing her lips to his. "I wouldn't feel right if you were to give me relief from my frustration when I can give you none."

"But your touch is no violation of our promise."

"I haven't the time. My first interview will be here in less than fifteen minutes."

"Ah, well if time is our only obstacle, I shall pleasure you now and return later to claim my reward." The Shadow King slide her thighs apart working his hand over her folds until he felt them grow slippery. "The anticipation will keep me until then." He watched her nipples grow hard, piercing the surface of the water. One finger slid to her inner lips tracing her opening. As Sarah's head fell back, her eyes closed, the Shadow King slipped inside her. One finger at first, then quickly two. Greedily the mortal ground against his palm and he added a third. Stroking her and using his thumb to gently roll circles over her bud, was enough to bring about the desired result. Her chest heaved just prior to her cries of pleasure, cries which played like a violin in his ears. The king worked her harder as she came, draining her of all of her frustration until she settled in his grip. Sarah's arms reached out, hands grabbing his head and pulling him in for a passionate kiss of appreciation.

At the schoolhouses, Deverell stood. "Mason, do not take my next inquiry as an insult to you or your craft, but I must know, is it possible in the slightest there was some defect in your construction or your materials."

"It's not that I don't understand how you could ask me such a thing, but of all you should know how easily it is to become devoted to the lady Sarah?"

"Why do you say such a thing? Why in that manor? Why me among all, why should I know?" Deverell questioned him.

Mason's tiny finger jutted toward the king's assistant, "For you are from the outside, the smaller kingdoms and here you stay a subject to the king, ready to serve him and his bride."

"Indeed," the fey admitted, suddenly calmer.

"To answer your initial question, I am a bricklayer by trade. I worked with stone and marble when I built his majesty's castle and still it stands. The Labyrinth's walls, brick by brick, built with these hands and but for what Sarah's refusal of the king destroyed, never has a wall crumbled. Weren't my construction, weren't my materials. Someone wanted this to happen and on my life it weren't me."

Kneeling to his level, Deverell's hand patted the shoulder of the craftsman, "I believe you good man."

"Come and look," Mason took his hand and led him to the exterior wall. "See there?" he asked as he pointed to a smudge on the brick.

"Looks like mud," Deverell commented.

"Mud it is," Mason confirmed, "but more than that it looks the shape of a boot sir."

"A boot," the fey traced it with his finger. "A pointed boot, the boot of a fey." Mason shook his head. "And there are few fey who can walk in and out of the Goblin City without the king's knowledge."

"Fewer still that would want to."

"Forgive me," Deverell shouted over his shoulder to the dwarf as he ran off. Without knowing where he was off to exactly, he had only one instinct, to protect Jareth and the woman he had chosen for his queen.

"So you agree?" Jareth asked impatiently.

The Cleric took a long sip of wine, "I wouldn't say it exactly that way. I see your point and truth be told, I will most likely do as you have asked, but I don't know that I agree." Jareth looked at him with pleading eyes. "The very reason you claim to want this elopement so anxiously, to keep the Gavel from taking Sarah from you, in theory your plan seems sturdy enough, but have you considered the notion that were he to find some last ditch excuse to keep her from becoming your queen only to find you had arranged all this to outsmart him, his reaction may be less than favorable?"

"His reaction is consistently less than favorable," Jareth protested. "What will he be able to do by then? He won't be able to send her back and it would be in his best interest to follow through with the christening, lest he have a mortal in this realm."

"In his best interest yes, but you have seen him scorned. The Gavel is not easily backed into a corner and he would as soon search for some brutal consequence as concede to the demands of others." The Cleric sat back, "Jareth, my son," he said slowly and seriously, "he will not be required to christen her." The king looked at him, questions in his eyes. "She will hold your soul, yes. She will be subject to all you are weak to and she will keep her magics, but she will remain human, subject to all the races weaknesses, including mortality. Sarah will not be able to return home, but instead she will remain Underground, at your side I've no doubt, growing old while you remain for the better part young by comparison. And eventually, this girl whom you love so devoutly will parish slowly before your eyes."

Dishes rattled as Jareth slammed the wood table. "Every bend, every step he controls them all. Nothing left to fate, nothing left to the Supreme One, no individual destiny."

The Cleric stood to take his leave. His hand fell to the king's shoulder. "As I said, I will do as you have asked. I will marry the two of you eleven days from now at the location of your choosing, but tell me not where that is. Instead choose some place other where I should meet you. Lies are not my speciality and the less of the truth you tell me, the less of a lie I must tell the others when they ask me where I go." Jareth looked up into the Cleric's gentle eyes. "I believe there is happiness awaiting you at the end of this seemingly treacherous road. Sarah's heart has melted the Gavel some and the likelihood of his rejecting her minimal, but I had to make you aware of all that love is sometimes blind to." The fey shook hands. Before he broke their contact, the Cleric clutched the back of Jareth's hands with his free palm. "If all else fails you, she will be your wife and that is something no one can take from you."

No word of thanks crossed the king's lips in response, but the tear in his eye expressed a gratitude deeper than words could.

Coming to the back of the castle, Deverell's anxious paces grew shorter. When he could at last make out the shape of his king he slowed. "Your majesty," he called. Huge draws of air separated his words as he attempted to catch his breath while speaking frantically. "Fey...footprints...on the wall...someone...someone did this...the schoolhouse."

"What are you saying, Deverell?"

"The schoolhouse, it was no accident."

"No accident you say." The Shadow King held his chin in his hand. "Well then how did this perfectly crafted building find its way to the ground and more importantly at whose hands?"

"Not hands your majesty, feet."

"Go on," the Shadow King purred.

Deverell better composed himself before he continued. "There are a series of footprints along the weakened wall, too large to be goblins, to long to be elfin."

"Are you suggesting that someone kicked down a building," the king roared with laughter.

"No ordinary someone. To destabilize brick it would have to be someone with impressive magic. Then there is the idea that it had to be someone with access to the Goblin City. Only the castle's residence can cross into the city with relative ease."

"Dalkeil? Do you think he did it? He is a strong one!" The Shadow King had to turn his face to hide the laughter at his own absurdity.

"Of course not Dalkeil. Your majesty, surely you don't suspect that someone in your castle would be capable of such a deed?" He shrugged in response as if to say back to Deverell, 'Why not?' "Sire, please," the fey continued, "tell me you do not think so ill of your own staff?"

"Well your hypothesis doesn't give me any other to think ill of then, does it?"

"The Representatives, Tiberon in specific, come to mind. 'Tis no secret there is no love lost between the two of you and he could come and go with relative ease assuming he's mastered a path in the Labyrinth."

The Shadow King smiled, content the blame should fall to Tiberon. "He is exceptionally clever. I've most likely under estimated him. You shall journey to his home, late tonight and take notice of his behavior. Anything peculiar, anything not peculiar. It might all be evidence of his plot. I trust only you to do this." He pulled the assistant close, "But careful how you go. No one must know. I wouldn't want to worry my fragile bride."

"Aye," he agreed. "There was something more, something you wanted to discuss with me sire. Should we have this meeting now as well?"

"No," the king spit nervously. "In fact, about that. Someone will be watching our discussion Deverell. I shan't say whom and they will be unseen to you, but she should know nothing of what we just discussed. Later when we meet, I encourage you to pretend as though this conversation never transpired and I would stress your disinterest in all things mortal as well as your servitude to the kingdom, that is if you wish to make a fine impression."

"Indeed, your majesty." Deverell's face grew glum. "I shall wait for you to call upon me then."

"Yes, yes, that'll be fine. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm rather anxious to see the girl, now that I've mentioned it." The assistant screwed up his face at the odd reference to the lady Sarah. "I expect you have plans to get ready."

"Yes, your grace." The Shadow King disappeared. "If you ask me, Tiberon's not the only one whose actions should be closely watched these days," he said to thin air.

Sarah had finished with the last of her interviews and sat at her desk mulling over a dozen or so papers in an attempt to narrow down the most qualified. Through her intent stare she failed to notice the Shadow King enter the room, making it a complete surprise when his hands reached from behind to cup her breasts as his lips slid over her neck. Sarah gasped.

"Easy love," his words soothed. "It's only me. Who else would it be?" He sneered at his own cleverness.

"Jareth," she sighed relaxing in to his touch. "This is the most welcome visit I have had all day."

"You flatter me."

Sarah spun to face him, "No really. I think if I would have had to conduct one more interview I would have had to scream." He smiled wickedly at her. "But you're here now. My day is getting brighter by the minute." She kissed him passionately as his hands roamed up her thighs beneath the hem of her dress. "Now," Sarah chastised, "you promised I would have the chance to return the favor you did me this morning."

"So I did," the Shadow King acknowledged, pleased by her eagerness. A sweep of his arm cleared the blotter of her desk. Spinning Sarah's chair back around he took a seat a top the desk where the strain in his breech's front was eye level with the mortal. For a moment Sarah was both stunned and clueless, but the Shadow King took her hand and rubbed it over the noticeable lump until her instincts took over.

Tugging on the braided cord beside his desk, Jareth tapped his fingers on his blotter. Seconds later when Arulan rushed in he asked impatiently, "Where is Deverell? I told I would meet with him just before dinner and he's yet to arrive."

"I do not know my grace," Arulan curtsied. "I shall go and search for him myself if your majesty wishes."

"Quickly," he snapped. "I haven't seen Sarah all day and this dalliance only prolongs the separation."

"Yes your grace."

Mumbling to himself the king waited. "One minute on my heals and the next spitting at my feet. It makes no sense. Were I the only one to have taken notice I might think myself mad, but since it is not just me, I must be quite the opposite."

"Only to those who don't observe you having entire conversations with yourself," Deverell interrupted Jareth's one dimensional banter.

The king's eyes snapped to him quickly. "I know you do the business of this kingdom from my work space, but as long as I am king, you'll knock before you enter this room."

"Yes your grace." Deverell humbled.

"Now seeing as we're already late getting started..."

"Pardon sire, but it was you who said you would call for me."

Jareth thought a moment. Perhaps he had told his assistant to wait for him, after all, he had a slew of errands to run and his return time was rather indefinite even if the time for dinner at the castle remained consistent. "I said that."

"Aye."

"Well it must have slipped my mind then. My apologies."

"Thank you your grace."

Jareth still seemed someone lost in his thoughts, but he pressed on, "In any event, I'm concerned for you Deverell."

"For me sire?"

"Yes. It has come to the attention of several residence in this castle you have not quite been yourself as of late and it fills me with great concern. Your services here are relied upon heavily and I want you to feel as if you can come to me with whatever causes you turmoil, to notify me if a decision you must make feels to heavy a burden, entrust me to the secrets you keep as I have entrusted you with mine."

"Aye your majesty," Deverell replied. "My only concern of present is the schoolhouse sire."

"And your living conditions are suitable? Nothing here at the castle displeases you or causes you discomfort?"

"Quite the contrary your highness. My accommodations are far grander than I require and your staff is doting. It is far more than one deserves in exchange for serving his lord and master."

"Is it that?" Jareth asked. "Do I expect too much of you to protect both king and queen once Sarah and I unite? If you prefer, we can find another guard for the queen." He studied Deverell's face. "Or we can find another guard for me."

"No your grace," the assistant said, perhaps too quickly. "'Tis a pleasure to serve you both. In my best observation I can only admit that I too have fallen victim to the demands of all to be done here between now and the ceremony. My humblest apologies." He bowed low to the king.

"Speaking of which." Deverell's ears arched with interest. "Keep this to yourself for its brilliance is it's secrecy, but the lady Sarah and I are to be joined in secret by the Cleric in eleven days. The ceremony is to take place beside the fall at two in the afternoon. I will meet the Cleric midpoint between there and the mountains. I would expect you to bring Sarah and to serve as witness to our vows."

Deverell grew modest. Even less of what had been happening made sense to him now, but there was no mistaking the childlike excitement on the king's face nor was there use in denying it's contagiousness. Jareth stood and extended his hand. "Tell me you accept."

Clasping his king's elbow with surety, Deverell replied, "It would be my honor your majesty."

"Your decision pleases me," he said bringing his free hand to the fey's shoulder. "Now then, let's us join my love for this evening's meal so that afterward I may inform her."

"By encouraging him to spy on me?" Tiberon shouted in response to the Shadow King's word of his day at the castle. "How is that supposed to help matters any?"

"Unbunch your breeches a minute. We'll know when he comes. I'll have a crystal on him all evening. We'll make certain you look as innocent as a child of ten. Deverell will wander home, vexed even greater by his finding and while everyone is fusing over arrangements for the king's elopement or busy worrying over whose not acting quite themselves, we are free to step in and squash them flat with upper hand I've managed to get on them." Leaning back confidently, the king laughed.

"Elopement!" Tiberon exploded.

"Did I not mention that earlier? Yes, it seems the king is growing anxious for the company of his woman and so rather than wait the full nine weeks required by the Triumvirate, they are to join in secret some time between now and then if the Cleric agrees to perform the ceremony."

"And has he agreed?"

"I don't know. I haven't had the time to check in on Jareth with all my other responsibilities," the king sighed.

The Representative laughed heartily. "Of course. Oh forgive me for not sooner seeing how weighted faking being king is." Quickly he snatched the Shadow King by the shoulders, pushing him back until he was off balance just enough that he relied on Tiberon's grasp to keep him from falling. "Your only responsibility is to find out when this elopement is to take place. If it is to be in secret, his numbers will be few and that is when it becomes most lucrative to attack."

Tiberon let him free, gleefully anticipating his crash to the ground, but the Shadow King sat suspended at an impossible angle of inclination, his eyes wide. The points of the Shadow King's teeth glistened when he threw open is mouth to let his laughter out and as Tiberon unconsciously stepped back toward the door he memorized the darkness that he saw for the first time, the evil he had underestimated.

The perfect way to announce his plan had not yet come to Jareth by the time he and Sarah settled into their bed. They lie there, quietly, the king's hand absent-mindedly trolling her spine. Sarah's head buzzing with the events that had transpired between them earlier, the details Jareth had told her to forget, but she could not. Slowly she reached beneath the duvet, under the band of his sleeping pants. "Sarah?" he asked oddly, "What are you doing?"

"I only wish to end your frustration," she admitted weakly as her eyes averted his. Her lips kissed over his chest, sinking lower, seeming to rush toward his crotch even though he showed no eagerness.

Roughly he grabbed her forearms, "If you are end my frustration than lie here, be still with me, let me feel your heart beat strong against my own." Jareth wound her in his arms and pressed tightly to her back. Sarah felt shamed and remained stiff in his hold where she would normal find herself more fluid, more ready to conform to this shape and languid in his arms. Instead she was anxious, her feet grinding into the sheets as if the needed to run. The king's tender hand caressed her hair. "If sleep is not to come for either of us, then come and walk with me."

"Walk, at this hour?"

"It is the perfect hour," he replied as she turned to face him. He parted the curtain behind the bed. "Look, the moon is full. Our path will be well lit and all the kingdom is asleep. We shall be the only two souls alive in the realm. Slip on a coat and your shoes and join me."

Even the idea made her smile as Sarah left the warmth of bed for the cold marble floor and complied with the wishes of her king.

Inside Tiberon's house, Deverell could see no signs of ill will toward the king. The Representative sat in a wingback chair by the fireplace having a glass of brandy. Watching long enough for him to be visited by one of his maids, Deverell heard him remark that perhaps he would go to visit Gandor for a few days. "I so miss the snow," Tiberon sighed. "There is much to be offered with the kingdom on the mend. Perhaps taking advantage of it might ease my loss." When she left, he rose to face a painting of his Darien. "Your death is perhaps the most valuable lesson I have learned father. Hatred makes a heart grow cold and I would much rather feel the cold on the outside of me." He rose a glass to toast the painting.

If he hadn't kept word of his mission to himself, the king's assistant would have sworn Tiberon had put on the show for him, but not even Jareth knew he had left the castle. Satisfied he turned to leave. 'There must be someone in the castle,' he thought, 'with less than honorable intentions for the king.'

When the Shadow King's crystal told him Deverell was well away from their home, he spread word to Tiberon, who quickly poured himself another brandy. "Gah," he moaned, "must one really appear that boring and well behaved to seem honest?"

"If one wants the kind of diversion you want, one must make every sacrifice," the king reminded him. "Although you are boring naturally, I sympathize with the difficulty of being well behaved." Tiberon's eyes narrowed at him, while the Shadow King hunted Jareth in the crystal. The foggy images cleared to reveal his location. "Undo all these fractions of an hour behaving as a gentlemen have done for you. I have responsibilities to tend to."

Tiberon got the distinct impression the Shadow King had just taken charge of his plot. Firing the glass he was drinking from into the flames seemed to confirm it was not a favorable impression.

By the falls Jareth stood in the moonlight, his would be bride in his arms before him. For a minute they did nothing more than watch the stars winking at them from the water which mirrored the black of the night sky. Lowering his lips to Sarah's ear, Jareth began, "This has been a spot of fabulous magic for us. Every time we are here I feel myself grow closer and closer to you."

"Me too," Sarah beamed. "From the first time you showed me this place right up to this very minute."

"Then I have chosen a fit location for our elopement?"

"Elopement?" Sarah turned to face him shocked, "He agreed, the Cleric agreed."

"He did," Jareth told her.

Sarah clung to the king, "In all that has gone on today I forgot to even ask. He will marry us?" she asked once more just to be certain.

Jareth shook his head, "If it is still what you desire, then ten days from tomorrow at two in the afternoon, I will meet you here and make you my wife."

"There is only one flaw in that plan," she told him. As Jareth eyed her anxiously, she admitted, "Ten days is far too long." The kiss they shared was tender, meant to be a bind to their words, a promise to meet here at the set time, a promise to each other. Sarah shivered. "The night air is chilling. Take me home where I can lie in the warmth of my to be husband's embrace."

"As you wish," Jareth told her before sending them back.

From behind the rocks the Shadow King emerged, "Ten days is far too long," he mocked. "Indeed. I can hardly wait."


	40. Chapter 39

**CHAPTER THIRTY NINE - HOW TO DO AN UNDOING**

The first week of classes at the school passed without incidence. Classes progressed nicely and as Sarah had expected, the goblins were only too eager to learn as it turned out. The Shadow King kept out of Jareth's castle, but to eavesdrop from some disguised location, giving everyone time to lull into a false sense of security, and lull they did..

"If I may," Jareth requested as he stood at the table, his glass raised high. All eyes turned to him, "Thank you. We come together tonight to celebrate the completion of the first week of classes held in the schoolhouses built, and rebuilt, by Mason." There was a small round of applause for the dwarf. Hoggle sat quietly a hurt expression on his face. Sarah tugged at the king's frock coat and pointed, "With Hoggle's help of course."

"I didn't do much," Hoggle sighed. Sarah smiled across the banquet table at him.

"Everyone has done a phenomenal amount to help make lady Sarah's dream a reality, especially our fine instructors," Jareth acknowledged the goblins to his right and the room erupted with shouts and applause.

Among them there was some discussion until one was chosen. It was the father of six who Sarah formed a close bond with from the time of his interview. "We cumulatively wish to thank the lady Sarah for the opportunity she has given us to give opportunity to others." His eyes teared and words choked in his throat. "For a great many years my father's father passed his knowledge to generations of my humble family and among the lessons he taught was that no breathing thing was any better than another because of his education, only more responsible to share what he has acquired. What you have presented me does more than satisfy my responsibility. It's not just the future which stands to benefit, but the past that stands to be fulfilled."

Sweetly, Sarah smiled back at him. Her lips refused to form a reply, but the streaks racing to her chin from her eyes were answer enough. A quivering hand rose to her mouth and then waved a kiss back at the lot of them.

"And so, this concludes this evening's celebration. Thank you for joining us, please feel constantly welcome in our home and safe travels to you this night." Jareth bowed himself at the final round of applause. When only the residents of the castle remained the king made one final announcement. "Business of another nature takes me from the castle this night as well. I will be at the service of the Cleric and my assistant knows of my whereabouts if I am needed. Sarah my love, would you kindly escort me upstairs where I can gather my things." Obediently she rose, taking his arm and following him to their room.

"I'm rather certain we should move tonight. It is me after all whose been doing all the spying up 'til now. He plans to honor the mortal's tradition of spending the night before her wedding separate from her betrothed. He'll be alone in the meadow by the falls, waiting patiently for morning so he can go to collect the Cleric." The Shadow King took on a gleeful look as he continued, "As he lies in blissful dream we'll bind him and carry him off into the wood, I'll step into his place, marry our sweet princess and by morning's light, we'll make you king and slaughter Jareth in the public square."

"It's brilliant," Tiberon agreed, "but doesn't it all seem a bit like they've played into our hand?"

"Of course it does you idiot. They have played into our hand. None of them suspects a thing."

"Ever hear the expression too good to be true?" Tiberon asked the king.

Jareth's double only laughed back, "What about not looking a gift horse in the mouth? You know Tibby, you've become a very unessential portion of this plan. If you're feeling chicken all of a sudden, I could just sneak into the woods myself tonight, kill Jareth in his sleep and assume his identity as well as his throne."

"You ungrateful wretch," Tiberon hurled at him.

"Now, now, mind your temper. Ruling some place as droll as the Underground doesn't hold the slightest bit of interest for me. It's yours for the taking, it would just be nice to see you want it a bit more."

"You couldn't understand want. You have no idea what it's like to deserve something all these years and then finally be able to taste it," Tiberon told him. "It makes one worry about what's been overlooked."

"Tell me I've no idea, eh. Exactly what you think it's been like being me all this time. I had brilliant ideas on how to run that wasteland. Superb notions of turning the goblins into slaves and now their being educated, by a mortal. All the while he moped about after she was gone, all the while he let his empire crumble, all the while he wasted what he had earned by nothing more than surviving the process of birth. Don't you think it occurred to me once in all that time it was the darker king who should have survived? The one who knew what to do with authority?" The Shadow King stepped close to the Representative. "Do I understand the want? I do, but I have grown so far passed the want that I gladly hand the kingdom to you for the pleasure of revenge. That's my motivation. Have all that belongs to him in this life, but I," his eyes grew black as he tightened his hand around Tiberon's throat, "I shall have the life." The Representative's feet had left the floor and his face had begun to grow pale just before the Shadow King threw him to the floor and started for the Northwest sector.

"Your mortal traditions are silly," Jareth told her as he kissed her once more. "The mere notion that I'm complying with them should be well rewarded on our wedding night." His jagged teeth nipped her neck.

"What more reward do you desire than our union?" Sarah asked coyly.

"None, my love. You are the greatest reward this life can give me." His lips met hers once more and they kissed as if their very lives depended on those moments to sustain them. "Until tomorrow," he told her , kissing the back of her hand, he vanished.

Sarah lie on the bed, the heat of her king's affection still warm on her lips. Since she was just a little girl, she'd imagine this night, perhaps more than she had imagined the wedding night. Virgin bride was a delusion she'd let go of at a relatively young age, but that anticipation of becoming a wife, that had lasted the test of time. And it was more intense in her now than she had dreamed. Her eyes wanted to rest, to appear perfect for the tomorrow, but each time they closed, they sprung open again, far too eager for the sun to rise. She readied for bed in one of the silk chemises Jareth had made for her and slipped between the sheets made cold by his absence. The stars seemed to cling in the night sky as she looked on praying for morning until her tired eyes gave way to the inevitability of sleep and the probability of dream.

Just as anxious as his soon to be bride, Jareth walked to the falls when he could have as easily snapped and been there. Traveling so primitively gave him a chance to reflect on just how lucky he was. Sure he was marrying the woman he loved for what seem like all his life, for to him life had only truly begun when she had become a part of it. But there was more, more he wagered that even he had not begun to learn. The night air was like a stern hand on his cheek. Wide awake he reached the water's edge. A thousand fire fairies trimmed it's edge while the other woodland creatures moved about.

Twink greeted him as he came close enough to see all they had done. "Whatch you think?" she asked and then quickly added, "And if you hate it, lie to me."

"Lie to you my darling girl. Since which century have I been able to do such a thing." His arms engulfed as he swung her high into the air. "My only complaint is that I can't decide which I enjoy more, this fabulous stone alter or the swags of flowers you've no doubt spent the entire day braiding."

Tiny hands swatted his chest, "Dare you set me up for that veiled compliment, why I'd knock you cold if tomorrow weren't your wedding day.

"I'm afraid I could use the remedy. Seems I can't turn my head off long enough to get any rest."

Twink hopped down from his grip. "A cup of tea then. We've set up a camp for you over the rocks," she pointed to the far side of the falls. "You go settle in and I'll have a steaming cup of chamomile for you before you can say suoicodilaipxecitsiligarfilacrepus, backwards."

"Quite alright," he told her. "I'll just wait for you to get back at your leisure." There was a canvas tent set up beyond the falls, inside a thick mattress complete with a downy spread to ward off the chill. Just the way a king preferred to go roughing it. A snap of his fingers settled him into his pajamas. No sooner had he decided to test the mattress, Twink returned, tea in hand. "Thank you," he told her as he accepted the steaming beverage. You've all been most kind."

"Nonsense. You think it's only your piece of this kingdom that girl's done right by. Why the woods are the safest they have ever been and the turn out at our rings have doubled in size."

"Sarah will be pleased to know of this."

"Then perhaps I can convince the two of you to forego the tradition of a reception and join us for a festivity to pale all others."

Jareth chuckled, "Perhaps we shall. Now into the wood with you," he admonished playfully. "A fey has got to get some sleep before he's taken out of the single circle for all of eternity."

"Or perhaps just taken out," the Shadow King laughed from the bushes.

Beneath the safety of a pillow, Sarah hid from morning's light. What once she craved had now become her enemy. Head full of dreams she didn't want to end the perfect imagery of what the day could be by waking to find what the day was. Outside the security of the duvet was the obscurity of chance and as the schoolhouse had taught her no amount of planning guaranteed the anticipated result.

"Miss Sarah," Arulan sang as she came bounding through the door. "Time you woke to meet this day. Deverell has left me explicit instructions to have you ready for him when he comes to collect you."

"Collect me?" the girl asked as if she'd never heard of the plan.

Arulan sat next to her on the bed. Gently tossing the pillow aside, she broke the barricade which kept night from escaping Sarah's eyes. "You act as if you didn't know what was in store for you. A mother knows things her children never tell her," she smiled. "Everyone else around here might be able to rank all this oddness up to the success of the schools, but then why not the entire Triumvirate, why just the Cleric? And when I'm told to come and ready you, why not an ordinary shift or something adorned with beads or gems? Why this?" Her hand tapped the garment cover she'd placed over the bottom of the bed.

"Why what?"

"This," the elf threw back the silk drapes that covered the gown. The top was hard satin, strapless, with pearl trim. Around the waist a lavender wrap which created the waistline for layers of taffeta and crinoline which, when standing would fall easily to her feet.

"Arulan, it's amazing."

"I'm glad you think so. I won't have my son elope with some frump, now into the tub with you." Sarah's jaw hung open. "Under an elder counsel quality interrogation, Deverell cracked." Worry fogged over a normally brilliant green eyes. "No need to fret, deary. I've no intention of sneaking off to the falls to see the whole affair. I'll stay here and maintain your charade, but consider this my gift. I know it's nothing much like the dress you've chosen for the formal ceremony, but I thought it would do nicely."

"More than nice, it's fabulous." Her hands fluffed the layers of the skirt before grabbing hold of the woman who brought it to her, "Thank you Arulan! Thank you a hundred times!"

"For what? I didn't do a thing for there is nothing to do anything for. Now into the tub with you before your late for nothing." A wide grin on her face she practically dragged Sarah from the bed and shoved her into the bathroom.

"Something isn't right." Deverell said as he pulled his boots over the legs of his breeches, "Something just isn't right."

"What's the matter?" Arulan asked as she hurried around him, pulling on his shirt and doublet, straightening his hair. "Shoes too tight?"

"No, it's not the shoes. It's not the clothes. It's not the hair. I don't know what it is." He threw his hands up in frustration, "But something isn't right."

"Well you best figure out what doesn't seem right quickly enough."

The king's assistant fell down into a chair nearby and groaned. Slipping his fingers inside the top of his boot he noticed they were a little loose. "Maybe I'm making something out of nothing."

"For everyone's sake, I hope you're right." From the closet she pulled out his coat and dress sword. "Come come, I still have Sarah to dress."

Slipping into the jacket, Deverell straightened his lapels. "I'm sure it's my nerves." Arulan reached to fashion his belt around his hips. "Tell me again why I'm carrying a sword?"

"It's a dress sword. Think of it like jewelry. This is a formal occasion and you should look the part even if you're not functional."

"Not functional," he raised a brow. "Now I know why Jareth keeps you from the motivational speeches."

The elf blushed. "Beg pardon sir, I didn't mean...I was talking about..."

His hand caressed her cheek lightly, "Dear woman, I know what you meant. I was making light to alleviate my own nervousness. You've Sarah to get ready, no sense in you wasting any more time with me."

"As well I do." She left him to his tugging at hems and adjusting sleeves, from the doorway she looked back one last time and smiled as she watched him restyle his hair one last time.

When she'd left him, Deverell went to his bureau and from beneath a stack of shirts, pulled the one accessory he knew would make him feel less anxious.

"Just a few more buttons and..." Sarah turned to see herself in the mirror. Her hair pinned up and curled, and her eyes done up in a soft lavender to match the sash. "Now we'll tie this up," Arulan told her as she straightened the large bow in the small of Sarah's back. "You look like a perfect doll," the elf told her.

"That's just it, Arulan. How am I going to get out of the castle without everyone suspecting something?"

"Ah, ha," Arulan told her. "Slip these on." Before her on the floor, Arulan placed two crystal slippers.

"Now I know this is all a fairytale," Sarah sighed, pinching herself on the arm. "Ouch! You're serious. Glass slippers?"

"Crystal dear. No time to waste. Step in."

"Arulan how are crystal slippers going to get me passed the staff unnoticed."

"Come now, what would you do in any other fairytale?"

Un easily Sarah balanced on her toes and clicking her heals together, "There's no place like...the waterfall?" she guessed.

Giggling madly Arulan stopped her. "Heaven's no. I meant Deverell would sneak you out while I distract everyone else. Ten minutes," the elf took her by the shoulders. "Good luck." Hurrying away she ran off to cry in private.

"Be sure he can't move his hands, not one inch," Tiberon remind the Shadow King as he secured Jareth deep in the wood. "Hurry! Hurry! The Cleric's going to be waiting."

"Repeat that one more time, was it that you wanted this chore done quickly or effectively?"

Tiberon paced nervously before them. "Save your sarcasm for someone who gives a damn."

"You give a damn don't you Jareth, my sweet," he asked his double with a quick pat on his full mane. "Shame I've got to keep you gagged this way. I do so love to listen to you wax poetic at me about how to better my soul." Jareth garbled something over the wad of cloth wedged deep between his jaws. "Save your strength your majesty. You want to look your best when we string you up in the square tomorrow."

The king struggled to set himself free, his eyes raging at the imposter wearing his face. They knew as they looked at him, they were lucky to have him restrained. Set loose, he'd have no doubt taken them both on and the fire in his stare suggested he would have been victorious. "Not so much as a finger able to wiggle," Tiberon noted, admiring the Shadow King's work. "I've been too hard on you. Perhaps you deserve some reward. I know," the Representative seemed thoughtful for a moment, "might I offer you a bride."

"A bride say you. I was just thinking how someone with all I have to offer, really ought to have someone to share it all with." Gathering up the outfit Jareth had chosen especially for his elopement, the Shadow King had only snap his fingers and he was dressed. "This," he indicated Jareth's dress sword, "will never do." Another spell and cold iron replaced the ornamental blade. "My mortal deserves the best," he boasted.

Linking arms, they left the forest, prattling on with their snide remarks about Sarah as they went.

"Jareth!" the Cleric welcomed him with considerable gusto. "Today is the day then, eh? And your palm is dry as sand. No nerves here, then. Well let's get you to your bride before our little secret is discovered shall we?"

"Indeed," the Shadow King smiled crookedly as he walked behind the Cleric.

Tiberon watched on from the rocks as the Cleric stood at the alter, the Shadow King straight as an arrow, watching down the path for Deverell and the mortal. At the back of the aisle the fairies had created with garland and lace, he left the smiling bride, a reassuring hug and joined his master's twin before the Cleric. "Arulan said you'd be in your dress best," Deverell noted, lifting the scabbard that hung from Jareth's hip. The king shifted uncomfortably. "You are one lucky man," Deverell reminded him as Sarah slowly approached them.

"Yeah, lucky, that's me," he replied. Deverell chalked it up to nerves.

Slowly she seemed to float toward them, in her arms a single orchid, a symbol that spoke of love and beauty. Each step brought her closer and made her thankful she could not feel her rubbery legs. This was her destiny, that fact kept her from crying. The Goblin King had chosen her and she felt made for him. A quaking hand settled into the king's when Sarah joined him at the alter. Smiling, she waited for him to say something, something about how she looked or how much he loved her, anything. The Shadow King only leered at her lasciviously. Wishing she had a shawl, Sarah drew her shoulders in as they turned to face the Cleric.

"It fills my heart with tremendous pride to be asked today to officiate this secret ceremony. To unite today two individuals whose love has infected an entire realm is the essence of my position here."

The Shadow King turned his head in an attempt to hide his smirk, but his reaction did not escape Deverell's keen eye. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Fine. I just didn't expect to get emotional so soon." Intentionally he bit his cheek to force his eyes to water.

"In observation of both the customs of a mortal and the tradition of our world, we gather here today in the company of this witness," he indicated Deverell, "to unite the Goblin King, Jareth with his beloved Sarah Williams of the Aboveground. As testimony to their union I solemnly swear I have personally witnessed the love they have professed for one another. I find them willing to lie down their lives for one another and to cling to the same for one more day together. They have learned to compromise and as evidenced by our small gathering here today, they refuse to concede when met with opposition." Sarah and the Cleric exchanged a short chuckle at his well worded proclamation. "Before the Supreme One and the mortal's God, I testify my words as truth. I now invite the members of our party to testify the same."

Deverell spoke first. "All I knew of the Goblin King was legend when I was sent to be his servant. All I heard seemed a contradiction when he took me in his wing and groomed me to fill the position that I hold in his home. All I knew of mortals was told to me around the fire in the eerie gloom of night like some horror story, but meeting the lady Sarah dispelled those myths the moment I saw her take charge to rush to the king's aid when he was attacked. Since then I have watched them work together to better this kingdom. I have watched them bring the best out of their subjects and the best out of each other."

From behind the rocks Tiberon rolled his eyes.

"Sarah love, ladies first," the Shadow King nudged.

"I didn't know we'd be expected to say anything," she admitted.

The Cleric reached for her, "Speak from your heart dear."

"What can I possibly say now, I haven't already said." She sighed, "When we first met, I found you a pretentious, selfish, monarch whose confidence was higher than his IQ, but since I've been back, I've found that you have a number of layers, each necessary and each loveable to a point. As with any work of art, abstract and impressionistic, he is best viewed in his entirety. To see the whole of him, is to know the whole of myself. I am unfinished without him to share my life."

"Well said," the Cleric applauded. "Jareth."

Normally not at a lack for words, the king now stuttered as he spoke, "I...I...If someone were to ask me if I thought I would ever take my place beside this fetching maid," Deverell cringed at the words he'd chosen, "I would have told them they were mad, but here we stand, against all odds, despite how much some individuals protested this union. I will have this woman for my queen, this beautiful woman. Together we will rule the Underground, continue to better it and populate it with our brood."

The Cleric looked strangely at the king. The bottom of Sarah's stomach felt like it had fallen out. From behind them came a booming growl, "Now that's something I would never say!"

"Jareth?" Sarah cried when she turned to see him standing there, identical in every superficial way to the man at her side.

"Come to me Sarah, quickly." The crystal slippers on her feet slowed her some as she threw the orchid from her arms.

Filling his hands with the lavender bow, the Shadow King lunged for her. "What's the matter darling?" he asked pulling her into his grip. "Cold feet?"

"Let her go!" the Goblin King shouted.

The cleric stood stunned, watching them react to one another. "What's going on?"

"I believe my king gave you an order," Deverell said while trying to explain what his eyes saw. "Let her go."

Sarah had begun to cry, not surprisingly. Jareth moved closer to them, but his advance only seemed to bring laughter to the Shadow King. The Cleric, had asked for an explanation of this, but Jareth asked him to stay out of it in order to keep him from implicating himself. His position was not to uphold the law and muddying his hands in this fight without the Gavel to pass judgment could only stand to have him dethroned. So he watched on helplessly.

"I'll call him off, if you let the mortal go," Jareth wagered him.

His offer didn't seem to phase the duplicate king, other that is to say than to increase his laughter. As Jareth saw in his peripheral vision the Cleric fall to the ground, he realized why. Tiberon had left his harbor of stone, knocking out the clergyman and showing his face for the first time. "No deal Goblin King," he announced.

"Why am I not surprised? Tiberon, you've already struck down a member of the Triumvirate, your fate is sealed. Why give them more to try you for?"

"Oh, it's so like you," the Representative raged. "Had you just stayed put, the Shadow King would have married your little whore and returned to your kingdom, accepted by everyone as king. In the morning I would have staged a siege on the castle, at which time your battered body would be drug in to substitute for his and the entire realm would have celebrated your public execution in the square upon the request of the king. Then when the formal marriage had taken place, Jareth and his eager young bride would have renounced the throne and gone off to start their lives together." His paces brought him closer to Sarah and as he turned his attention to her Jareth made his way closer to the group mesmerized by the fear on his mortal's face. Tiberon's hand swept over her open chest and Sarah's breath hitched between sobs. "Appointing, before they left, the rightful king to hold the throne which should always have been his." Turning to face Jareth who was now only a few steps away, the Representative added, "But you don't seem to care about what I want."

"Not particularly," Jareth admitted.

Reaching around the mortal, his hand hugging close to her form, Tiberon withdrew the Shadow King's sword from his scabbard. "Let's finish this," he said into Jareth's mismatched eyes.

"Tiberon, let's be logical. What can two unarmed men do against you in battle?"

Lacing his arm around the Shadow King's throat, Deverell's impetuousness bested him and through gnashed teeth he offered, "I'll snap his neck at your command majesty." The Shadow King only laughed wildly at the suggestion.

"Snap his neck and I'll run her through," Tiberon countered. The Shadow King buried his head into Sarah's neck, kissing her and tasting her flesh. "They make a lovely couple don't they?" the Representative antagonized.

Unable to take another moment of what his love was being subjected to, Jareth charged at Sarah's mid-section knocking her loose of the Shadow King's grip. Deverell, having let loose the king when he saw Jareth set to charge, was quickly by her side, fending off the Representative as she drug the helpless Cleric to safety. "Best we keep the dead weight out of the way," Tiberon told him as the two kings scuffled. "Oompa," he shouted as he hoisted the sword back to the Shadow King. Replacing the blade to his belt mad him now virtually indistinguishable from the true king.

Deverell made a jump at the now unarmed Representative. "To protect the kingdom, I will kill you myself, if it is what's to be."

"Leave me be boy. It isn't your blood I want to spill," Tiberon told him refusing to fight back.

One of the kings spoke up. "Deverell, let this end. We can take Sarah home and leave these villains to the hands of the Triumvirate who will no doubt come for them when the Cleric does not return home."

The other king added. "While I agree with my adversary that this must be ended, it is I who is your king Deverell, do not listen to this imposter."

"He is the imposter," the first king reiterated.

"Rich! Lovely and rich," Tiberon said gleefully from the ground. "A game of whose who. What a splendid way to spend the afternoon."

The first king lunged at Tiberon, belting him square in the face, "If I were not the king would I attack my own master?"

"I've taught you to interpret your surroundings better than this Deverell, you know who is the real king and who is the imposter."

"So I do," Deverell said as he grabbed the king closest to him, the one which had just punched Tiberon. "You shall no longer disrespect my king," he announced, his fist digging deep into the fey's gut, pushing the air from his lungs.

"Deverell you fool, I am your king!"

"Then let me beg the mercy of the Supreme One for the wrongs I commit, both those I have done knowingly and those I have done unbeknownst." Deverell drew back his fist and buried it a second time.

The king withdrew his sword, "If you insist upon fighting me, let's make it a fair fight, shall we."

Deverell drew his dress sword, "If that is what you insist on, but a blunted blade will do neither of us any good." The king seemed shocked to see he'd pulled a dull blade.

Tiberon eyed the king at his side. "Shall we pair off?" he offered the Representative, drawing the blade he wore. It was a true sword.

"Have you gone mad? Sit and watch what we have created. The king is about to die at the hands of his very assistant." Tiberon told him.

"The Goblin King is a selfish man, Tiberon. Don't forget that. Even when he claims to give away all of what he has, he finds a way to retain just a fraction."

"Your point?" he asked nonchalantly as he watched the men in the field before him clashing their non-weapons as if it were a real battle.

The cold edge of a sword pressed against Tiberon's throat. "He is not everything evil about me."

"Clever," Tiberon told him as he bent back at the pressure of the blade. "You managed to change the sword."

"Fast hands from centuries of doing magic."

"Fast hands and a sharp tongue," he jabbed. "You mean to kill me then? The way you killed my father! Have at it! Show your hussy what it is you truly are beneath your pin on heart of gold."

"I mean for you to live, but only to regret this day." Pulling back his sword, Jareth offered, "Draw if you wish to fight, otherwise concede and consider yourself captured."

"What fun would that be?" he asked the king before drawing his sword and matching the dance of the other men in the field.

While the sounds of clashing metal rang on in Sarah's ears, she tried to revive he Cleric. Small hands snapped against his cheeks, her tears rebounding off his closed eyelids and all to no avail. His body lie limp in her arms and unyielding weight in her lap. His pulse and his breathing the only signs that life had not abandoned him.

Against the trunk of a tree, the Shadow King had pinned the young fey. Unpredictable changes in terrain set Deverell off balance just long enough for him to lose the stalemate. The dull metal sword pressed against his throat like a stick, forcing him to gurgle as he gasped for air. "Tell me why I should spare you?"

"For one, you're using a dress sword." Deverell told his attacker.

The Shadow King spat back. "There is more than one way to die. I am your king and you refuse me. The enemy collected secrets from our kingdom and you gave them away willingly and do not think I haven't noticed the way you eye my bride."

"She's not your bride." Guilt tore at the young fey's soul as he tried to sound bold, confident that this was not his true king, despite the doubts he had.

Pressing the stick deeper into his throat, The Shadow King continued, "Because of you. You went to investigate Tiberon, did you not, or was that a ploy to give the enemy more details? I've lost my mortal and my kingdom, my very pride to you."

Reconsidering the events of the last few weeks, Deverell thought about the odd behavior of the king. How much it seemed like the behavior he saw now. Almost motionlessly he slid his heel along the trunk. "It was you," he accused "All this time you've been trying to turn me against the king, you who knocked down the schoolhouse. You infiltrated the kingdom, posed as his majesty."

"Do you hear how ludicrous you sound?" The Shadow King asked.

Searching the top of his boot, Deverell's nimble fingers pulled out the dagger he'd stored there earlier for good measure. This was not his king, not Jareth. Why his king had himself warned Deverell when he used this same showy tactic of it's vulnerability. If he could keep him distracted long enough to get a sturdy hold on the blade, he could best him. "You had access to the lady Sarah, to all of Jareth's servants and subjects."

"And what direct access I had too," the king laughed as his tongue flicked in and out against his bared teeth. "No one questioned me. Not a one of you. Not even the virtuous lady Sarah, but it would have been more difficult for her, what with mouth over hers as it werrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr..."

Between a moan and a growl the hard consonant of his final word dribbled from his lips as Deverell plunged the dagger deep into the Shadow King's ribs. Warm and sticky was the blood that covered him, as he stared in disbelief. "I should have liked to have you for a disciple, for you are more deceitful than I gave you credit for," the near lifeless king spoke.

"I worship no false king," Deverell proclaimed, tossing the body aside. "Least of all this one." His feet carried him fast to Jareth's side.

"Your advisor comes our way bloodied," Tiberon announced.

Jareth gritted his teeth, "Save your lies."

"I am the son of a nobleman," he countered.

"Let's not go so far as that." Despite the accompanying rational conversation, the fighting continued.

It was Sarah's shrill voice that ultimately staved them. "Jareth it's true. Deverell, are you hurt?" she called.

"This blood is not mine," he told them in disgust as he approached. "Your Shadow King is dead, Tiberon. Give up this fight."

Part of Jareth knew before the boy arrived, felt all that was cold about him die, but the confirmation filled him with an odd sense of grief and satisfaction combine. "There is no one left to take your side," Jareth told him. "Lay down your sword now and I will plead they take pity on you."

"You wait until now to show me compassion. Now when I have no one. Even if your merciful Gavel sends me free, to whom shall I return? If you want to show me compassion, kill me. End my torment, do yourself the favor." Tiberon fell to his knees and cast aside his weapon. "You know my tendencies, if I am free, I will only lie in wait until I am again presented with someone eager enough to try to best you again. Heed me when I promise you that next time I will kill the girl first."

In that moment Jareth saw himself, felt his arm pull back the weapon, watched the tip as it came ever closer to the Representative's chest. Tiberon waited, his eye closed, satisfied his death would not be blamed upon the king, but knowing those who watched him die would always wonder if the bit of evil only minutes earlier Jareth had proudly declared still his, hadn't got the better of him just then and when it might get the better of him again. As quickly as the blade advanced it stopped when it met his chest. "Until now, I have always treated you different, maybe it was my hate or my conceit, but in the end, I owe you fairness. That is why I'll keep you here to face the judgment of the Triumvirate, because that is what is fair."

"Since when have you been fair?" Tiberon shouted. "The girl will tell you. Is the Goblin King fair? Answer truthfully, when has he been fair?" Sarah and Deverell looked on in disbelief as the Representative went mad before their eyes. "Will you remain blind to him until the end? He is your false king, he is your turncoat. I may be evil, but I have never pretended to be anything but!"

"Silence!" The Gavel stood behind Jareth as he spoke with authority. "Healer, tend to our brother. Jareth unhand this man." The king stepped away. The Gavel used his magic to shackle the Representative. "Tiberon, you are charged with crimes of treason and attempted slaying. How do you plead?" Despite his remaining silent, his face showed the guilt. "Games are not something I prefer to play. Were you engaged in a plot to over throw the king?"

"Yes."

"Did you conspire with another whom you passed off as the king as part of that plot?"

"Yes."

"Are you responsible for the condition of the Cleric?"

"Yes."

"Did you threaten and/or display the intent to kill the king?"

"Yes," he admitted almost proudly.

"And the lady Sarah?"

"Yes,"

"Tiberon, Representative of the Southeast sector of the Underground, son of Darien, former King of the Underground and Liril, a commoner, you are charged with the crimes to which you plead guilty. It is the judgment of this court that you be remanded to the mountains where you will await trial and sentencing." The Gavel's arms rose high above his head and Tiberon disappeared. "As for you Jareth, what actions have you taken that find us here today?"

Having well since made his way to his mortal's side, Jareth braced her shoulders, "Last night as I lie in my tent, they came. Into the wood they took me, deep into the wood where I was restrained. Twink, whom I had informed of our plan made ready the details which greeted you when you arrived and by chance she wandered back to watch in secret. That was when she found me, by the grace of the Supreme One and set me free. I readied myself in a duplicate of the outfit which had been stolen, turning their plan to my advantage and including a functional sword, then sent her for the rest of the Triumvirate."

Deverell joined them, "Surely you knew your secret would be revealed if they found us?"

"Aye," Jareth told him as he stood. He shook the fey's hand and embraced him. "As you fought so bravely for those you cared strongly for, I too rank my personal pursuits below the lives of those I love."

"Moving, but his secret of yours," the Gavel stole back the conversation, "is not something I can allow."

"As well I suspected. It was my plan for us to elope here by the falls today."

"Elope?" the Gavel asked.

Sarah spoke this time, "It is a mortal concept, to marry in secret prior to the arranged wedding date. It is an idea I orchestrated."

"Not alone I am sure?" She averted her eyes. "You speak without making a sound, miss."

"It wasn't her idea. I believed that if I married her in secret you would have no way of sending her back. The entire plan was mine," Sarah clung to his arm. "And the Cleric's participation was at my request. He was against this from the start."

Beside them the elder stirred, "Speak for me when I am dead, but breath fills these lungs and my days of doing as others suggest to me are long since passed." He struggled to sit up while the healer tried to hold him to the ground. "Let me alone. I agreed to marry them here tonight because I believe in their union. I believe in what the girl has done and if the mortals can show change than aren't we obligated to show it in return. You claim you're a victim to the law, but your chains are made by elders past, you forge each link with your own fear."

"If I were in your current situation, brother, I would choose my words carefully. Your deception here today jeopardizes your position in our counsel," the Gavel reminded.

Rising to his feet, the Cleric disputed him. "I committed no deception. I went where I told you I was going to meet with Jareth as I told you I intended. You never asked me if I was to marry them or even the nature of our meeting. It is not our way to blame the person doing the replying when the wrong questions are asked."

"He's right," Jareth added.

"He makes a point. Even so, you disobeyed an order of the Triumvirate."

"In fact your highness, I did not. We neither engaged in mating nor did we plan to move up the date of our wedding or to replace that holy event with this elopement."

"All this aside for now, there are matters more delicate to be decided here. Sarah's work with the schools has been successful, or so I am told. I did not believe before now I would send her Aboveground, but this whole event has made something clear to me..."

"Damn it!" Jareth shouted. "We have done everything you've asked. We have sacrificed. We have made modifications and improvements to the kingdom. I will not let her be punished for the love we share. I won't allow it. I forbid it!"

"Be that as it may," the Gavel went on, "I was about to say that after all that has transpired here today the thing which has become abundantly clear is that Ms. Williams should be christened as quickly as possible for her own protection." He turned to the Cleric, "If you feel you are capable of performing a ceremony which will not be held in secret."

"Quite capable," the Cleric agreed.

"Jareth, I can only assume that if you had an objection, you would have well since voiced it by now."

"No objection."

"Fine then, let us all take the rest of this day for rest. In the morning your garden will host this Christening," the Gavel announced.

"Tomorrow?" Sarah asked.

In reply, the Gavel questioned, "Are you not ready to become a member of this realm, Ms. Williams?"

"Quite the opposite," she quickly retorted. "You mistake my shock for doubt. Why the very idea of becoming one with this world makes me giddy."

She was learning about living here, undoubtedly. "Of course." The Gavel pursed his lips, "Brothers, if we may." The Triumvirate stood side by side only momentarily before they disappeared.

Sarah fell into the arms of her king. "Jareth, they're going to move up the Christening. This is fabulous." As much as he wanted to share her joy, he was too worried about what would happen afterwards to fully enjoy this moment.

Back at the castle, Jareth stood in one of the downstairs sitting rooms. "Does anyone else know what was expected to happen today?"

Sarah and Deverell looked intently at one another. "Arulan," they both said.

"Of course," Jareth said. "It certainly explains the dress, which by the way suited you." A wave of the king's hand and Deverell's clothes were fresh and less formal, as were his and Sarah's. "Go and collect Arulan for me while I have a talk with Sarah." Taking a seat that faced him, the mortal's face was bathed in guilt. "I'm not angry," he started.

"Well I am," Sarah countered unexpectedly. "I'm angry at them. I'm angry at us. I'm angry at your world, and mine." Pulling her into his arms Jareth tried to soothe her, but the tirade went on. "How can you not be angry?" Sarah asked tearfully. "Tiberon has managed to do this twice now, twice Jareth! And what's to stop him this time? The slap on the hand the Gavel gives him? If the Triumvirate would have listened to you last time, he wouldn't have been free to do this. If I had just listened to you the first he wouldn't have been able to do what he did to Turgomon." And then it occurred to her, the thought she never imagined she'd have, the regret, "If I'd never come here..."

"Don't," Jareth told her as he stooped to meet her eyes, "don't even think it. My life without you is not worth living. You're not being here is no option. Yes I'm angry. Angry with Tiberon, angry at myself, but not at you, never at you. Sarah, you were only trying to do what made me happy. I couldn't be angry at you for that. We must all prepare for what is to happen now. You are staying Underground, this much we know and in a few short hours you will be made fey, but there are things the Triumvirate can still do to us and I want us to be ready for it." Sarah shook her head before burying it his neck.

From the hall, Deverell heard the shouting and waited patiently for what sounded like a more appropriate time to enter. Arulan clung to the hand he offered her and waited at his side. When at last the room grew still, they knocked gently and were told to come in. Arulan ran to Sarah's side to offer her sympathies. "Poor, sweet dear," she cried. "Such a pretty bride you would have been no matter the number of guests." Arulan kissed the girl's forehead.

"I told her the bulk of it on our way over," Deverell explained. Reading the king as he had gotten rather good at doing, the assistant added, "I assumed you would rather discuss the consequences in person."

Pride shown on Jareth's face when he answered back, "Indeed."

"Consequences?" Arulan asked, panic in her voice.

"I'm afraid there are a number of things we should consider," Jareth said steadily. "The most urgent being Sarah's Christening." Clutching the girl Arulan gasped. "I'll expect you and Deverell to handle the details for the event, as Sarah will need her rest tonight."

"Naturally," Arulan offered "When should I ready the castle for?"

"Tomorrow," Jareth told her bluntly.

The elf eyed Deverell, "There are a few things you've left out I see." He smiled roguishly at her. "Tomorrow it shall be then," Arulan promised.

"After the Christening, the Triumvirate with begin doling out their justice. Deverell," the fey snapped his attention to the king, "you have the least to worry over. Your killing the Shadow King will mean very little once I refuse to take ill will at the crime. He was after all an extension of my self. Sarah you're not being sent home, but I fear the Triumvirate with wish to punish us, assigning you to another sector as part of the Christening, further delaying our ceremony, I'm unsure, but I anticipate it. I will accept what ever punishment they give me as long as it doesn't effect you." His blond mane nodded in the mortal's direction. "What I worry most over is that they may try to disband the Cleric. That would be a travesty, to them, to us, to this realm. He is an honest and decent elder with a progressive mind, his only crime.:

"What about Tiberon?" Deverell asked.

"What of him?" Jareth questioned.

The fey left his casual lean against the mantel for a more serious posture, "Is he not to be punished for his crimes?"

"He may be tried," the king hung his head, "or he may be dealt with privately by the Triumvirate."

"They don't know what all he's done, what all he has had his pet monster do!" His rant drew Sarah's attention. "I was there with it in the last minutes of its life and it confessed to me their plan, confessed to me what it had done to lady Sarah...'s schoolhouse," he added as the blood drained from her face.

"Tiberon is responsible for the schoolhouse?" Arulan asked.

Then she realized. Then Sarah realized what had happened. The Shadow King had returned, well before the elopement, disguised as Jareth's exact physical duplicate and extracted all the useful bits and pieces he need for his plot. "He came here, the Shadow King and he tricked us all in to sharing details with, giving him exactly what he wanted." Sarah looked away from Jareth then and into Deverell's eyes. 'He knows,' she thought. His look confirmed it. Huge, sympathetic pools sadly looking her over trying to absolve her of a disgust no wash could wear away. "He pretended to be Jareth and that day at the schoolhouse, he took his chance to not only ruin our plans, but to kill us both." From the room she fled like a shot. Her body shook with tears as she wondered if Jareth could forgive what she had done.

"Tiberon will be dealt with, by my life I swear that. He will be kept away from us all," Jareth grabbed his assistant by the arm. "And when that is through, they will have us find a new Representative for that sector. I leave it to your wisdom to chose the fey Deverell. Tomorrow when they come I will demand a trial which I will also demand we attend and we will have the name of his replacement ready on our tongues." He nodded at his king. "Enough then, I must tend to Sarah, both of you ready this castle for the most spectacular Christening we have ever conducted.

When Jareth stepped into the room he shared with Sarah to find her face down in the bedding muffling her wails, he rushed tenderly to her side. "What is it that troubles you so much you would run from me?"

"I can't marry you," she cried refusing to look his way, not that it would have done any good to bother. Her sight was obscured by her tears.

"What do you mean you cannot marry me?" This time he forced her to face him. "Sarah, love, I already told you that I cannot have you go away. Have I done something to damage the love you have for me? I pray you tell me it is not something I cannot undo."

"It's not what you have done, it's what I have done and regardless of what I wish, this is not so easily undone."

"Tell me what it is you fear you've ruined and let me but those fears at bay."

'He had a right to know,' Sarah reasoned to herself. "Jareth, when the Shadow King was here, I didn't know it wasn't you. After all I told you about memorizing the stride of your step, the feel of your breath, I couldn't even recognize an imposter." Hanging her head, she sobbed once more.

"Your confession does not surprise me." Sarah's eyes rose to his as he continued, "The Shadow King is a part of me, love. The darkest and most ugly one as you have seen, but it is me and with his magic he could have made himself so indistinguishable even my own mother wouldn't know the difference." As her pink lips parted to continue her confession, Jareth read her over. He did not search for lies. He did not wish to invade her privacy. No, the king sought this time to spare her. Bringing his lips to hers, Jareth kissed her tenderly, with the fragile care of an angel's wing, the way he would have kissed her all those years ago if he could have brung himself to do it. Many times in the fifteen years they spent apart he dreamed of what it would have been like to abandon his sense and steel from her that first kiss, that innocent kiss of a girl's whose world was no larger than her own town, when the only man whose lips had ever neared her were her father's and those as chaste as the Lord's. He'd thought his chance had passed to have her that purely, but in this moment she had grown innocent again, been given reprieve from the darkness she thought had changed her.

"But..." she whispered when his lips left hers.

The cool leather of his forefinger pressed vertically beneath her nose. "Don't do it to yourself. Don't lower yourself to saying what I can guess. Whatever it was, however deeply you feel pain and embarrassment from it, you did nothing wrong. What you did, you did with me. What was done to you, was done by me. A part of me you could never love, the part which most likely kept me from you all these years, but a part as doomed to love you as I, as compelled to want you as I. Please my love, spare yourself the indignity of confessing to a crime you did not commit."

Sarah caught his lips and kissed him. Back against the mattress they collapsed, holding one another tight. "You grow to be a more amazing man every day I spend with you."

"No doubt why that is," he replied kissing her more passionately this time, kissing her until she slept.

From the window of his bed chamber, Jareth could see the chains of daisies which had been hung around the tops of the tents for the Christening. The cherry blossom tree was full and pink. Tables for food had been set and dressed. Everything draped in white and pink. Though he had performed in more than a thousand of these Christenings, Jareth was more nervous for this one than for all the others combined. Checking the clock he called to Sarah, "How are things coming? Do you need Arulan?"

"No," she replied. "I think I've got it. I'll be out in a minute."

"We've got to be down there in ten minutes."

"Keep your pants on!"

"I had no intention of removing my pants."

The door parted, "It's an expression silly." When she came through the door and into the light where he could better see her in her gown, Jareth's eyes grew wide and he seemed to follow her while she crossed the room towards him. "Do I look Okay?"

Easily able to pass for a simple wedding gown, the long white slip pooled around her feet at the floor. The overlay was transparent, hinted with a gold floret pattern, it included the sleeves of the gown which began to bell just above the elbow and hung so long and wide they looked more like wings than sleeves. In one hand she hung a collection of silver chain and in the other the ends of a long white and gold braided cord which she had tied twice around her waist.

"You look like an angel," Jareth breathed. Blushing, Sarah tuned away at his flattery. "Am I correct in assuming you had a fraction of trouble with your accessories."

"Not trouble really. This belt is far too long and this necklace has no clasp."

Taking the mangle of chains from her hand, Jareth slipped his fingers through several of the web like openings and let the silver dangle from his hand. "This is no necklace, this is a veil."

"A metal veil?"

"A silver veil." Each of the connections in the web pattern were made by a small diamond chip and from the crown a silver medallion made a peak from which a tear drop pearl hung. "Bow your head," he told Sarah. Gently he lay the veil over her hair, the rich black locks consuming the chain as the chips created a halo. The medallion rested just above the center of her forehead and the pearl fell to right above her brow line. It was as soft and delicate as the girl who wore it. "Have a look," the king told her as he spun her toward the mirror. Coming up behind her , Jareth reached his arms about her waist and began undoing the belt.

"Can't we just cut off the ends?" she asked, remembering they had but a few minutes.

"This is a ceremonial garb, love. You can't go cutting it to shreds." Holding the cord over his hand Jareth roughly determined the center point and gave a tug so one side was about four inches longer than the other. Around the collar of the dress were sewn tiny hooks. Patiently he worked a few strands of the braid into them until it framed the entire neckline.

Sarah sighed, "Thank God. I spent twenty minutes debating whether it was inside out or not."

Jareth smiled. At the lowest point on the scoop neckline, Jareth crossed the braids. Watching in the mirror to be sure his placement was symmetrical he trailed the ropes, one beneath each breast. At the middle of Sarah's back, he loosely knotted the strands, then fed them over her hips. Bring the shorter piece to the same side hip as the longer piece, he knotted them again, this time like a tie and left the two pieces to fall on slightly longer than the other from her left hip. Breathing in deeply he smelled he clean scent of her hair mixing with her more natural scents. The ability to keep from clutching her now completely lost, Jareth pulled her into him, her back to his chest, pressing his cheek to hers.

"They're going to be here any second," Sarah reminded him as in the reflection from the mirror she could see the minute hand approach the twelve.

His right hand rose and snapping his fingers they disappeared, but not before his lips grazed her ear as he sighed out, "Damn."

Before a nervous crowd gathered near the gate, Jareth and Sarah appeared just as the keys turned in the locks. Sarah hurried to Hoggle's side. As she had asked, he would be the one to present her. At precisely ten in the morning the members of the Triumvirate crossed the threshold of the gate to greet the king in his formal white attire, the family sword of legend hung from his hip. "Bring forth the girl," Jareth instructed. Holding the dwarf's's hand, they walked slowly forward. Hoggle's eyes filled with water at the sight of her and more to steady himself than anything he found himself clasping her hand with both of his. Bending low, Jareth asked, "Is that a tear I see?" as he accepted Sarah's hand from the dwarf.

"Is not," Hoggle huffed before returning to his family.

Smiling broadly Jareth wrapped his arm over Sarah's. "We humbly request this girl be christened with the name Sarah and that she be granted immortality here with us in the Underground."

A wave of his hand and the Cleric had ignited the incense burner which hung from a chain on his belt. Pachouli smoke filled the air. In an ancient language few knew, he chanted. Sarah's aura began to glow about her, all the beauty of her inner heart shining in a fortress around her body. Never had she been so lovely as in that moment, dressed in white, bathed in light, the diamond accents in her hair increasing the shimmer. The kingdom bowed before her, even Jareth, though he refused to let go over her hand. "Welcome Sarah , newest fey of the Underground. We take you into our hearts and minds forever interconnected as all things fey are. We bless happiness unto you and we draw upon the happiness of your spirit."

Slowly Sarah's aura began to retreat and as it did the pupil in her left eye enlarged until it looked the very same as Jareth's. She was fey though she retained a fair amount of her human characteristics. "Your eyes," the king whispered. Sarah looked into his eyes and saw him in away she had never seen him before. Panning the crowd, everyone looked the same and yet new.

"Jareth," her voice shook, "What's wrong with me?"

The Cleric reached for her, sliding Sarah closer to him and for the first time out of Jareth's grip. "Be still. This is a temporary adjustment. Your brain will learn to use the eye and Jareth will explain it to you later, for now we must finish the ceremony." His warm smile calmed her. "Bring forth the Representatives." Gandor, Ranofyr and Elbereth step forward and stood on their designated sides of Jareth. The open spot for Tiberon did not go unnoticed and none was happier than Sarah to see the void. "Insomuch as each of you has pledged yourselves unto this child, it is the decision of the Triumvirate that the new fey, Sarah, shall be given unto Jareth, King of the Underground. Step forth and claim your lady."

Only moments earlier, Jareth remembered having feet, remembered how to walk with them, but in the next moment the knowledge had abandoned him. Hearing the command of the Cleric, looking at his once unattainable love, draped in ceremonial clothes, her pupils marking her conversion to fey. Sarah's outstretched hand beckoned him, but he only heard the words, "Step forth and claim your lady...claim your lady."

"Jareth," the Cleric snapped, pulling him out of his hypnosis, "Step forth and claim your lady."

Grasping her hand, Jareth pulled close to her. "You have seen fit to award my people a new and beautiful lady," at describing her his voice broke. "We praise the three of you. I accept this lady and vow to keep and provide for her," Jareth's eyes left the Cleric's and shift to the side to meet Sarah's, "to the best of my ability. She will groomed to obey our laws, enjoy our realm and praise the Supreme One." The Sage steps forward with a small well in his palm and extends it to within the king's reach. Touching his finger lightly to the surface of the oil inside the tiny well, Jareth made a small triangular motion on his forehead. Then he touched the oil again before making the same motion on Sarah's forehead, beginning just above the left side of the medallion, fanning out to accommodate the pearl and then joining to the point of origin on the right side of the medallion as he repeated, "In the presence of the Gavel and of the Sage and of the Cleric, this is my vow." The enlarged pupil of both fey grew cloudy, but through the tears welling in them neither could make out the visions of love that lie within the onyx pool.

"Let us celebrate," the Cleric shouted as he tossed his hands into the air.

Jareth lifted Sarah's hand high over her head as he marched her through the crowd. Cheers and cries pelted at them as if it had been their wedding. From beneath the cherry Blossom tree, just outside the main garden, Sarah stood as the guests riffled passed her into the reception area, most stopping to offer words of appreciation, acceptance or sentiment. There was a sturdy breeze that blew through every now and again, not strong enough to disturb the guests, but enough to knock loose a few of the cherry blossoms from the branches above Sarah's head. Jareth looked on at her, stepping back to join the Triumvirate who remained behind the crowd, mid way down the gentle slope of the king's court. The pink blossoms reminded him of the snowflakes in the southeastern sector and how they had stuck in her hair, contrasting with the midnight sheen of her mane. She smiled politely, shook hands, gave hugs, an occasional kiss reserved for her dearest friends, but no matter the method of greeting her guests, she was poised, graceful and humble with them all. Already her fey confidence was filling her, for she did not search the horizon for Jareth. But already her fey senses had begun to set in too, letting her know he was near, at least near enough he could easily rush to her side if needed.

When the Gavel was headed into the garden and the Sage, busily chatting it up with the newest resident of the Underground, Jareth leaned over to the Cleric and asked, "So my friend, what will be your punishment for the crime I asked you to commit?"

"Oh, you wish to see me punished, do you?" the Cleric chuckled.

The king eyed him, "Not at all, though I anticipated it."

"Well Jareth, you should know best this is a ream of unexpected goings on, especially as of late." When the Goblin King continued to stare at him in confusion, the Cleric added, "Gavel has decided to consider the rationale I gave him at the falls yesterday. I technically did not deceive. It was he who failed himself. And so he's pushing me through on the technicality. I stand to incur no further penalty for what he calls my questionable judgment."

"None?"

"None. Your woman does fine work." He smiled at the king, patting his shoulder before trading his company for Sarah's. His long arms engulfed her. "Milady," he said, "'Tis a blessing to have you among us. Welcome..."

Minutes passed with the Cleric and Sarah as Jareth looked on at the Gavel who was being served by one of the kitchen elves. He smiled up at the petite red head who brought his plate and poured his mead. 'Smiling,' Jareth thought. Perhaps he worried too much about what would come of what had come to pass.

"Should we join them?" Sarah asked as she took the king's elbow.

"After you milady," he said with a bow.

At the head of the table sat the Cleric, Jareth to his right, Sarah to his left. The Sage started off the long row of attendants on Sarah's side while on Jareth's sat the Gavel. The banquet table made a large U along the garden, the buffet against the only open side. On a table in the center, the roasted pig was presented, carved and served. Delicious dishes of varying nature were passed on to and off of the table by the servants beginning of course with the Cleric, who out of his own personal habit served the king and Sarah before himself.

When everyone's plates and glasses were filled, they began to eat. Small conversations struck up and Jareth's curiosity got the better of him. "So Gavel, have you decided what is to be done about Tiberon?"

"Have you a suggestion for me?" he asked snidely.

"A immediate trial."

"There will be a trial Jareth, when I say there is to be a trial. Do I tell you how to run your kingdom?"

"As a matter of fact," the king replied.

The Gavel sipped from his glass, "So I do. I must learn to more carefully choose my words with so much changing here by the day. What is your great urgency?"

"I don't want him free to stage another attack when Sarah and I wed."

"I promise you," the Gavel began with great intensity, "Tiberon is caged in the mountains of the east. His trial will come and go, well before your union and even if he is turned free he will neither be given the power of being Representative again nor will he be physically able to disturb your ceremony if it means cladding him in irons."

With so much sincerity and willingness coming from the Gavel, Jareth felt it an inappropriate time to discuss how uncomfortable he was when the elder stressed, 'well before your union' in his promise. Rather than spoil Sarah's day by causing a scene, he shook what had once been his enemy's hand. Appreciation aside, Jareth's nature got the better of him not long after his attentions returned to his meal and he asked, "When do you think that trial might be?"

Without taking his eyes off his plate, the Gavel replied, "You pick a new Representative for the Southwestern Sector, someone we approve of naturally, and I'll give you this trial you're so anxious for."


	41. Chapter 40

**CHAPTER FORTY - TRIAL AND ERROR**

On the heels of what had likely been the most important Christening in the history of the Underground, the king busied himself with his task of electing a new representative. Surely this wouldn't be as daunting a task as the Triumvirate would have him believe. While Sarah slept deeply at his side he slipped from beneath the duvet and tip toed to his office. Glancing at the clock, he found it only shortly after three in the morning and groaned. "I won't be the one holding up this trial," he vowed to the thin and dimly lit air about him. Then he began listing names of all the fey which came to mind, when he had filled a scroll he began again at the top, eliminating the names of those who seemed objectionable either to him or in they eyes of the Triumvirate. Before long, the entire scroll's contents had been roughly struck through by the tip of his quill. He began another scroll. "I'll find them a fey they can't refuse, someone devoted, someone loyal, someone whose interests are for this realm above his own." That's when it hit him. The perfect candidate. Falling back into his chair he groaned again.

Sarah stretched as morning's first rays fell onto her pillow. When her arms encountered no resistance from Jareth's side of the bed, she sat up quickly and rubbed at her eyes. He wasn't in the room. Not in the bath either. "Well," Sarah sighed looking at her hands, "let's see what these things can do now that I'm fey." As she'd seen the king do a hundred or more times she snapped her fingers and found herself smack dab in the middle of the kitchen. Perhaps her stomach had a bit more to say about where she wound up than she thought.

Arulan rushed to her side tossing her protective arms around Sarah. "Heavens me, you should have a robe!"

Until then Sarah hadn't thought about the fact she'd been wearing only her chemise. "Oh my," she quickly turned her wrist expecting to dress herself, but rather made it so Arulan too was now clad in nothing more than her nightwear.

"What say we do this the old fashioned way?" Arulan suggested as they rushed up the stairs like giddy school girls, both giggling at their mishap.

More appropriately attired the ladies re-entered the kitchen and Arulan made Sarah a cup of tea. Not long after, Jareth came in looking distracted and sleep deprived. "Good morning," the elf said with a curtsey. The king only grumbled.

"Good morning," Sarah repeated as he sat next to her. He leaned in so she could plant a kiss upon his cheek and then grumbled some more.

When Arulan set his tea before him, he groaned. When she brought his breakfast, he pushed it away. When they spoke to him, he grunted. When they didn't speak to him he sighed. Having had rather enough of his moping, Sarah asked flatly, "Is something wrong?"

"Only everything," he gloomed, speaking audibly for the first time.

"How can you say such a thing?" Arulan wondered. "Sarah's been christened, you'll be having your wedding soon. I would think you would be more jovial at least conscious."

"I have to go back to the Triumvirate," he said flatly, pushing his tea away now too. The thought of anything hitting his stomach made him cringe.

"For what?" the women asked in unison.

Jareth straightened up in his chair, "I have to appoint someone to take Tiberon's place as Representative before they will agree to schedule his trial and his trial must happen before we can be married."

"The engagement period ends in a few more weeks," Sarah replied.

"The engagement period is irrelevant if the trial has not come and gone by its originally scheduled end." Jareth slumped onto the palm.

Sarah's head switched, her eyes flicking on Arulan and back to Jareth, her mouth slightly agape. "You're kidding me." One delicate finger counted on those of her free hand as she named off the things she found unbelievable. "He drugs me. He has the Shadow King infiltrate the castle and wreck havoc on the kingdom." Jareth smiled as tiny orbs fell from her palm with each valid point. "He tries to kill you, twice. He succeeds in having your first man and your horse murdered. The Supreme One knows what else he's done or plotted to do or plots yet to do and we're still at his mercy!" Noticing the way Jareth looked at her, eyes glittering, smile wide she added. "What are you so happy about? This is outrageous."

Taking her hands up in his, Jareth used his magic to collect the crystals she'd let loose. "If my face showed happiness my love, 'twas only for seeing the effect of my world upon you."

Lifting one of the crystals, Sarah turned it this way and that. "Did I..?"

"You did," he confirmed. "I should teach you a bit about the magics you have now, but first I must be sure the candidate I've chosen will be an acceptable one for the Triumvirate. Arulan, have Deverell in my office in five minutes." The elf jumped to her feet and immediately went in search of him. "The events of our marriage are beyond our control, beyond Tiberon's control. The Triumvirate is angry we tried to wed against their instruction, any delay we suffer now is mine to take the blame for." Leaning in, his lips grazed hers. "I promise you, we will be wed on the day you chose when you agreed to the conditions the Triumvirate made of you, not a day later." Against her forehead Jareth placed a tender kiss. As his hands left her grasp, his magic replaced them with a bushel of roses and he was gone to ensure their happiness.

"That's not what I'm asking," Jareth shouted as his hands filled with great tufts of his disheveled hair. "I know it isn't probable. I realize it's never been done, but is there anything in those books you've devoured one by one since you got here that says it is forbidden."

"Well nothing in those exact terms, but traditionally the candidates have been fey." Deverell scanned one last page before closing the volume on his lap.

"Traditionally a mortal has never been made queen. Traditionally the goblins aren't educated." Jareth passed before the young fey, "Very little of what's gone on here for the last few months has been traditional, Deverell." Jareth grabbed the book from his hand, one paragraph in particular catching his eye.

"But your majesty…"

The king stopped him mid sentence, "He's the only candidate with the morality to hold the title and once Sarah and I are married, he will be a royal for all intents and purposes. The Triumvirate can't argue with that."

"No one who is not fey has ever been a royal," Deverell persisted.

"My father was not fey."

"True, but your mother was and I fail to see what your marriage to Sarah has to do with his being a royal."

Stopping his steady pace, Jareth wrung his hands. "I suppose I will have a lot of explaining to do, quite a lot."

Bothered by Jareth being holed up in his office all day, Sarah planned to head out to the school houses and see what help she could manage to be there. Swinging open the door to the castle she found Hoggle. He was lost in thought, his head craned over his left shoulder as if he had been followed. The dwarf wore a mild but noticeable expression of fear as his fat fist knocked silently against the air between them. "Hoggle," Sarah exclaimed, stooping down and pulling him into her embrace. Her long hair covered his face smelling ever so faintly of jasmine.

"Hello Sarah."

"You sound glum, Hoggle. Is everything all right? It's not Drema, or," her hand hurried to cover her open mouth as she meekly inquired, "Sarah. Nothing's wrong with them is it?"

"No."

"Oh, thank goodness," she sighed, relieved. "Is it Jareth? If he's giving you problems, I want you to tell me. I know he can be cruel at times, but deep down I think he's wearing down when it comes to the other species here, and besides, he knows your special to me."

Squirming, Hoggle attempted to escape her grip as Sarah reached out and squeezed a generous portion of his left cheek between her thumb and forefinger. "I ain't special. I'm just Hoggle," he grumbled batting her hand away. Troubled eyes looked at hers, noting the hurt th\\\\\\\\\there and quickly, the dwarf shuffled toward Jareth's office leaving Sarah staring into space.

Not meaning to let him get away with behaving like a spoiled child, Sarah shook off the jolt of his tantrum and stomped after him calling his name. He paid her no mind, only stayed on his course bound and determined for the large door that would put much needed distance between he and his pursuer. "Hoggle," Sarah called when he reached his destination, "don't dare turn that knob. So help me if you turn that knob..." She pointed at him and electricity shot from her fingertip, a thin, weak crackling blue line. Hoggle defiantly reached for the knob regardless. The tiny blast was enough to make him yelp and rub his hands together. "I'm sorry," Sarah said when she caught up to him. "Let me see," she insisted reaching for his hands.

"Leave me alone. I got no business with you."

For a minute she thought she'd cry. "What do you mean you have no business with me?" Her lip quivered as she asked.

Hoggle's left hand reached for her face, "You know I never wanna hurt you, but I manage to some hows, without even tryin'."

Deverell opened the door before he could say anymore. "Everything alright out here?"

"It's fine. Miss magic fingers here just ain't learned how to use 'em s'all."

At the mention of Sarah, Jareth's ears perked up. Hoggle tried to shut the door behind him, but it was too late. He'd seen his love. "Deverell, have Sarah join us."

"No," Hoggle steamed. Jareth set cold eyes on him. " I won't discuss nothin' if she's here."

"Pardon?" the king asked.

"You heard me. Nothin'."

"Give us a moment," he requested, waving to Deverell who shut the door. Turning on the dwarf, Jareth continued, "Let me make something perfectly clear to you. What's discussed in this room will be relayed to Sarah whether it is by your lips or mine. The question is would you rather she hear it from me or from both of us?"

Hoggle thought a moment. Realizing how hurt Sarah would be to think he'd kept any part of the truth from her, he relaxed his posture, took his chair and mumbled, "Let her in."

Deverell looked to Jareth for confirmation and upon receipt of another wave, swung the door wide, admitting the impatient woman in the hall. "What the hell is going on around here?"

"Have a seat," Jareth told her softly. She took the seat next to Hoggle. "Sarah," the king began slowly, "I'm sure you're wondering why we're all here, why Deverell and I have been holed up in here all day. You must have a number of questions."

"Yes," she interrupted. "Beginning with what in the hell is going on around here? Don't preface me. Don't set me up for something. Just tell me what's happening."

"As you wish," he sighed. "Tiberon's trial is to be delayed until I find a suitable replacement for his position as Representative. Tiberon's trial being delayed, delays our wedding, and so I have chosen a candidate to submit to the Triumvirate." Waiting eyes snapped on the king. "If he were to accept, I would like to offer the position to Hoggle."

"What?" Sarah said smiling.

Hoggle's eyes softened, "What?"

"I'd like you to be the Representative for that sector. As it is you live there, you're familiar with the territory and you care about the creatures, barring fairies, naturally."

"Naturally," Hoggle repeated. His short thick fingers smoothed over his face, "But I ain't fey Jareth. The Triumvirate won't allow me to hold the title."

"Actually," Deverell joined the discussion, "there's nothing in the rules to indicate a Representative must be fey."

"Oh Hoggle, do it!" Sarah's teary eyes pleaded with him, "There's no better candidate than you."

The Goblin King cleared his throat and without making direct eye contact with any of them added, "Besides, you'll have an advantage no other candidate will have?"

"What might that be?" the dwarf asked. Jareth looked at him then, encouraging him to come forth with what they both knew, but he said nothing. Hoggle only hung his head, prepared for what he was about to hear, prepared to lose the first and most important friend he'd ever made.

"Well what is it? What's his advantage?" Sarah asked when no one said anything further.

Closing his eyes, Jareth drew in a deep breath, "Sarah, when you and I are joined, Hoggle will become a royal, giving him an advantage over the other candidates as royals are always more favorably looked upon."

"A royal," her eyes began to glow. "Hoggle you never told me you were a royal."

"I ain't," he told her hoping she'd get the idea.

"Then how?"

"Drema," the king explained.

"Drema's a royal?" Sarah asked. "But what has all this to do with our wedding?"

Taking her hands tenderly into his own, Jareth knelt before his to be bride. "Love, when her niece becomes queen, Drema will become a royal."

"Her niece?" the relationship seemed foreign to her suddenly. Her mind searched for the connection, randomly tossing about words in an effort to lead to some conclusion. Queen…Niece…Aunt…Mother…Sister… "I don't understand. I…I just don't understand."

Hoggle wiggled in his seat to turn and face her. "Before Drema was my wife, before she was even a dwarf, she was a mortal child, wished away to the Labyrinth."

"But what does that have to do with me? I'm no one's niece! My mother was an only child." Denial clouded her reasoning.

"Sarah, love, your grandparents had another baby, one they hadn't planned on. When Linda was fourteen, your aunt Karolyn was born." Sarah shook her head vehemently. Capturing her cheeks in his palms, the king continued, "Listen to me Sarah. Relax and listen to me. The same book you read from so faithfully was once your mother's plaything. She was left alone with Karolyn one night and she called to me. I came to her window as I came to yours that night and I took the child as she requested."

"And she fought you? She conquered your Labyrinth?"

"No Sarah, she never left her room. Losing Karolyn meant nothing to her. When the appropriate time had expired, the child was christened."

"You made my aunt a dwarf."

"It seemed like a good idea, at the time."

"Sure, great idea! How many more relatives of mine are here? Anyone from dad's side of the family? A distant cousin perhaps? This is mad!" Shoving away Jareth's hands, she took to her feet and paced the floor. "You mean for me to believe that my mother summoned you with the same book I had and sent her sister away without so much as trying to get her back? And now she's a dwarf, married to a dwarf, with a little dwarf child."

Hanging his head, Hoggle tried to hide the hurt on his face, but even Jareth couldn't believe his ears, "Sarah!" he chastised.

"S'ok Jareth," the dwarf said as he climbed down from his chair. "You shoulda been told a long time before now," he admitted to Sarah, "but you wasn't, so be angry at me for that if you feel like it. Your aunt was taken away from you before you were born, before you even knew her, so be angry at your mother for that. But if you think I'm goin' to let you be angry because she's a dwarf well yer wrong. We're a proud people, easily scared and sometime slow to show our feelin's, but proud. Ain't a dwarf in this realm better than your aunt. That's why I married her, and that dwarf child you talk about was made in love, raised in love and named for you." He thrust a stubby finger at her face. "Furthermore, in all the years we've had her, we've wanted her. We never wished one day to be without her let alone wished her out of our lives forever, so when you talk about bein' a dwarf like it's somethin' cruel or dirty, remember that mortals can be far worse." Sarah reached for him, but he shrugged her off and started away. Just before he left, he turned in the door frame, "I woulda been proud to be yer uncle."

"Hoggle wait," Sarah called. "You can still be my uncle." Her tone had softened. The pain in his eyes more than enough to make her realize how irrational she'd been.

"I said _woulda_ been," he punctuated his statement by slamming the door.

Sarah collapsed against the king, sobbing. "What have I done? What have I done?" she cried repeatedly into his chest.

A subtle nod told Deverell he should see himself out. Jareth smoothed her hair, "There, there, you were just shocked. I shouldn't have asked you to sit in with us. I should have told you privately so he wouldn't see your reaction."

'My reaction,' she thought finally getting a hold on herself. The declaration she'd made ran through her head. "I didn't mean it like it sounded," she told him. "I only meant it seemed fantastical to me, but instead I made them sound like they were all cockroaches, like their child was worthless."

"We all make mistakes Sarah. Give him some time to cool off, then go and explain. He'll forgive you."

"He may, but I will never forgive myself. Here I am the recently converted mortal, working so hard to prove that mythicals deserve to be accepted and respected and how do I do that but by kicking my best friend in the stomach with an off the cuff response. I'm a horrible person!"

"You're not horrible."

"I am! I'm atrocious. I wouldn't make myself queen. Who could respect me? I'd line up with them to spit on myself."

"Speaking of overreacting," he took her hands and tried to reassure her. "Give him some time to cool off and you two will make amends. I am certain of that."

"You're right." Sarah pulled from his grasp once more and head for the door. "We are going to make amends, right now."

"Sarah, I'm telling you, give him time," Jareth reminded her as he slid behind his desk, but she'd already disappeared. "Sarah?" he called, but it was too late, she'd gone. He fell sullenly into his chair. "No one listens to me," he moaned. "I'm king and no one listens to me!"

Through the front doors Sarah exploded, her porcelain legs pumping wildly, propelling her toward the gates. Sections of her hair came loose from the pins they were in and whipped behind her in the hurricane she created. Her dress flapped like a boat sail. No one was at the gate. Tentatively she slid open the doors and entered the Labyrinth. Two things occurred to her as she stood inside the mossy walls: 1) she'd never in her life run as fast as she had when she left the castle and; 2) she'd not been in the Labyrinth alone since she first came back to the Underground. 'Magic,' she concluded as she dismissed the first delayed idea. It must have been turning fey that enabled her to run like the wind. Smoothing back her feral locks, she felt more confident, until she turned around to see the doors through which she had come only seconds earlier were gone. Balling up her fists, Sarah rose them above her head and slammed her weight against the wall where the door should have been, groaning as she fell. "Now what?" she asked aloud.

"Well, there's always a pot of tea on if you're interested," Winston reassured her.

"Thank you, but no thank you. I'm afraid I've too much on my mind for tea." Sinking to the ground, Sarah looked at the small blue worm. "You seem to manage in this maze quite well."

"Yeah, I make do," he agreed. "s'lot easier with you back."

"How's that?"

"Not so easy to crawl around in walls that crumble down then." Winston shook his head. "Here, why you trying to run away from the castle?"

"Oh I'm not running away," Sarah reassured him. "I'm running toward."

"Toward what?"

"I hurt someone very badly just now and I can't live with myself until I apologize."

Winston nodded. "I see. But what about this person you've hurt?"

"They're very angry and they've every right to be. I said things that gave off a terrible impression and I didn't mean to say them, but I did and I must take them back."

"No, no, no," he repeated shaking his head, his tiny scarf rippling in the breeze. "You can't make excuses Sarah. You're no longer the child that fought these walls when she was a naïve mortal. You know the power of words here and you know that words do not come unprompted or without meaning, and above all, words are not easily taken back."

"But I must," she cried. "If Hoggle can't forgive me, I…I…I don't know what I'll do."

Wriggling closer, Winston rubbed his tiny tufts of hair against Sarah's cheeks as her palms held her face, her knuckles deflecting tears left and right as they fell. "There, there. You never said it was Hoggle who you mean to apologize to. I'm sure he'll listen to whatever you have to say, but don't you think you're being a bit selfish?"

"Selfish?" Sarah asked, wiping away her tears, curious as to his comment. "I'm being selfish by wanting to apologize?"

"No, no, no," he said. "Not by wanting to apologize, but it's you whose said these things, you who feels badly for it, you who needs to apologize and you who must do it to be at ease. What about what Hoggle wants?" His head sort of dipped in her direction and bobbed a bit.

"I never really thought of it like that."

"Maybe you're stuck because Hoggle doesn't want you to find him right now. Maybe he wants to be alone with his thoughts. Maybe you should have some tea."

"Do you think?" Winston smiled up at her. "Thank you," she said, kissing the tip of her pinky finger and pressing it lightly to his cheek. "You are the smartest worm in the entire realm." His blue cheeks went a hint purple. "Now how do I get out of here?" Sarah asked looking around, knowing the door would not reappear without the maze testing her in some fashion.

"The doors on this side only lead out I'm afraid," Winston offered.

Passage ways that had once blended fluidly with their surroundings appeared to have texture now. Sarah could see the recessed doorways and hidden passages that until her Christening had managed to elude her. 'Of course,' she thought as she popped back up to her feet. "Thank you Winston, but I've got to return to the castle now, if you'll excuse me."

"Yeah, alright."

Raising her hand and making a delicate twist of her wrist, Sarah vanished before Winston's eyes and reappeared in her chamber where she settled in for a long bath to relax.

"So," Jareth purred as he stooped next to her ear, "you decided to take my advice after all." Ignoring him, Sarah sank further in the warm water, pretending to be asleep. "Poor dear," the king spoke quietly as he studied her still face. "The toils of this day have fared hardest on you." From the dressing table he'd had crafted for her, Jareth acquired the silver-handled brush with which he had so often watched Sarah bring a polish to her raven crown. Beside the tub once more, he sat, trolling the bristles through her hair and easing her to the point she thought her charade may easily cross over to gospel. In fact, it was the guttural sigh escaping her barely parted lips which gave away her trickery. "Ah, so you were not so much at rest as you would have me believe." Jareth stood above her, a rakish grin consuming his lips, devilishness abundant in his eyes.

"Not entirely," Sarah admitted. Caught in her attempted deception, she couldn't help but smile. "I was enjoying you brushing my hair though."

"Is that so," he said beginning the task again. "You seem far more at ease than you were earlier."

"I am."

Jareth's eyes coated her with admiration, "I'm glad of that."

"Tomorrow I shall find Hoggle and make my peace with him as tonight I have made peace with myself." Rolling onto her tummy, Sarah looked at the king, her chin dimpled by the edge of the tub.

"What is it, love?" Cocking her head, she continued to eye him quizzically. "You look as if you've something on your mind, above and beyond the obvious," the king elaborated\\

Their connection had deepened greatly since those days when she played the frightened child to his surreal king. The feelings she once had regarding him had graduated from a playful game of cat and mouse to better planned, more strategic match of chess. To wear her emotions so clearly across her fragile face was an amateur error for someone with Sarah's experience. Coyly she smiled, conceding to his superiority. "It's ironic, the notion that we are each others but still not free to be each others. Does no one see that?" she asked as her fingertips reached forward to push a strand of wild hair behind Jareth's ear.

Gathering her hand into his own, he kissed the tip of each finger lightly. "I see it. Everyone who sees us sees it, but there are processes in a kingdom and as long as this one takes I shall wait. I have already been waiting my entire life for you, no amount of time could be a punishment."

Sarah smiled at him, straining to reach her lips to his, eager for his touch, but forgetful of her new heightened senses. It was not long before her body yearned for a satisfaction forbidden to her. "Jareth," she whispered heavily in his ear.

"We mustn't," he responded, showing a far cry's more restraint than could be ordinarily expected of him. "We've come too far to risk our union; for what is one night's pleasure compared to a lifetime?"

"You're right," was the grumbled reply. Despite all her wishing the water surrounding her refused to cool. "What shall we do to pass the night then?"

"While I know it lacks the luster of the more arduous intentions we're desperately trying to ignore, there is a dreadful rumor going round the castle that your skills with magic are grievously sub-par."

"To hell you say," she laughed. "Banish the insolent that dares to critique my magic." With a twist of her wrist, Sarah produced a feather light crystal which glided from her fingers and hung in the air between them. "See that! I'm getting better."

"So you are love," Jareth granted her, "but it seems you've got a bit of a ways to go." Gingerly he poked at the filmy orb, popping it like the ring of soap it was. "Now then." He began the lesson by slipping into his black leather gloves and cracking the crop at his side.

"Where'd you get that?"

"I summoned it. Come now you can do the same if you want, if you focus and concentrate. Give it a try."

Like a child working hard to shift his chubby fingers while keeping the waxy end of a Crayola inside the line, Sarah moved her hand slowly this time, painfully slowly, for even Jareth found himself gape jawed as he watched on. When the production had ended, a steel spatula extended from her palm. Sarah grunted, splashing water as her fist broke the tension of the its surface.

"Menacing, that much I'll give you," the king chided.

"Laugh if you must, but if I don't learn to do these things I fear the entire realm will end up as equally in disarray as that pit you called a throne room last time I visited." Gently the king pried the kitchen utensil from her hand. Then taking her hands into his, Jareth asked Sarah to stand. "I've no patience for your tom foolery," she chastised.

"Stand," he repeated. His tone was hard and unyielding.

Obediently she stood. Drops of water remained behind on her porcelain skin, susceptible to the powers of gravity and inertia as they joined together in tiny streams that ran the length of her form until they met up with the mother waters from which they'd been so roughly withdrawn. "Magic is no set of words to be repeated in a given sequence. It is not scripted motion." Methodically he paced around her as she stood, the water deep as her calves. "Magic is passion, magic is desire, magic is want. His hand caressed the curve of her hip before Jareth locked his eyes on Sarah's. "It's a matter of concentrating on what you want. What do you want Sarah?" he asked her rather open-endedly.

What he said seemed not to synch up with what she heard. 'It's a crystal, nothing more...but this is not a gift for an ordinary girl who takes care of a screaming baby. Do you want it?' She wondered as her ears played tricks on her, as his slow annunciation made her stomach tingle. How, even at fifteen had she managed to resist him. Certainly his charm was not nearly as wasted on her now. Yanking her from her reverie the chill in the late evening air came rushing through the castle, stinging her body and making her quiver. At least she'd blame the chill Sarah thought, if the king was to ask.

"Dressing perhaps? It's something you'll need to do rather frequently." Jareth cleared his throat. "Picture what you want to be wearing clearly, something we've had made up for you, down to the most minute detail. Think of nothing else, not even for a second or it can effect the spell." Sweeping his hand, his formal clothes faded and were replaced by his nightclothes, the black silk pajamas Sarah had seen him in so many times before. "Now you try."

A long peach chemise, lace trim at the neck and around the hemline, a peaked panel cut into the bodice where through the openings in the lace her abdomen could tempt the eye, she pictured it vividly, down to the last detail and when her hand swept through the air, the satin gown clung to her frame. Her eyes went wide. Her mouth agape. "I did it," Sarah squealed. " I did it."

"And so you have love, so you have. But may I suggest one small modification when next you practice dressing?" Eagerly Sarah awaited his advice only to turn angry when met with his laughter. "You may want to get out of the tub first."

Groaning, she looked to her feet, still submersed beneath the water. "Damn," she snorted stepping free of the puddle, her gown drenched. Remembering her more rudimentary education, Sarah called upon the winds to blow dry the garment.

"Well done," Jareth complimented. "Shall we work on your transports?"

"I'm not well dressed for travel."

"Perhaps a short trip then," the king indicated the bedroom. When next he lay eyes upon her she was positioned statuesquely above the duvet her long hair loose around her shoulders, her rich green eyes lit by nothing more than the flames of a few candles. "Well done," he praised her once more. "Well done indeed."

As his lips fell to hers, Sarah could not help but notice the intensity of his kiss. Had it always been so? Or had it been her return of his feelings that seemed to bring on the robust edge his touch had developed? His eager hands, clean against her skin, were like fire and yet Sarah dared to dance brazenly in the flames, to be truthful she found herself seduced by them.

Jareth lie her back against the pillows and sighed heavily. "Enough," he said simply, gently. "I shall not be able to stop myself if I do not do so this instant." Drawing the sheets around her naked body, Jareth held her close. "Best to close your eyes and dream love. The night shall pass more quickly if you do."

"These months of celibacy must be making me mad," she sighed. "Your touch to me is like the sun."

"You forget, fey's senses are much heightened by comparison to those of a mortal. Your becoming fey has enhanced a great many number of things I am sure. Are colors not more vivid to your eyes? Can you not smell the sweet violets which grow wild in the southeast sector as if they grew in the garden just below our window? Does wine not taste more sweet upon your lips, although I tend to lie the blame on you for that?" His hand caressed her cheek.

"The things you say are all most true. I thought it was my imagination, my appreciation for life after ours had been threatened so often. Will I remain this way, ever alert of all that surrounds me?"

"Ever more I'm afraid."

Nestling into his side she prepared to rest. "Then let that truth keep me patient until I can more properly be your lady."

The king watched on until she was asleep. His lips pressed into her hair. "Sweet naive Sarah, you have always been my lady."

Easily mistaken for a strong breeze came Sarah's first attempt at knocking when she reached Hoggle's stump. Patiently she waited for a response, but not surprisingly none came. Drawing in a deep breath and hoping there would be some courage in the air from which she could benefit, she tried once more. Were anyone inside, they easily would have heard her this time, but alas no one came to the door. 'I don't blame him for not wanting to see me,' Sarah thought as she trudged back toward the Labyrinth. Before she reached fifteen yards, she found her knees victim to a brutal and yet affectionate attack that renduced both she and her attacker to the ground.

"Sarah Two," came the joyful cry which gave away at once the identity of the till then stealthy assailant, "have you come to visit?"

"My," she expressed at the way the girl spoke, "but you are getting to be a big girl!"

"I go to school now."

"Do you? Well that is fine, fine indeed. Before long I shall fear you smarter than me."

Sarah One smiled shyly. "Young lady, you apologize this instant. Running off, pranking people. Why you probably scared the poor woman half to her death."

"It's fine Drema. I'm fine." Sarah Two said earnestly as she rose from the ground focused on the dwarfish woman, seeing now a subtle but convincing family resemblance there.

Tiny hands began batting at her skirt, a cloud of dust forming, "Heavens me. Your dress is ruined. Come inside and let me wash it for you."

"That's not necessary." Sarah made a pass of her hand and instantly changed from the soiled blue dress into a fresh, brilliant yellow one.

"Bless my soul, I forgot you have your magics. Well if the Underground doesn't suit you!"

"Does it suit you Drema?" the woman looked at her as if she had gone mad. "The Underground I mean. Does it suit you?"

A thoughtful look fell upon Hoggle's wife. "I suppose it suits me fine. It is all I have ever known when I think about it so even if it did not suit me, I have nothing to compare it too. Isn't that funny. I never thought about that, but then again I'm not much for travel. Although I thought next winter we might take our Sarah to the Southwest Sector for a visit to the workshops. Don't you think she'd enjoy that?"

Choking back her tears, Sarah nodded pleasantly and forced a smile. "I think she'd enjoy that very much."

"You're welcome to come with us if you'd like," Drema reminded her seeing a look of disappointment begin to cloud Sarah's eyes. "You are always welcome to be a part of anything our family does." Sarah's tears broke loose. "Here child," Drema soothed, pulling her friend to the stump and scurrying up to sit beside her. "Why are you crying?"

"Oh, it's nothing." Drema eyed her, "It's just that I don't think Hoggle thinks that way. Not anymore."

"Nonsense! I know what this is about."

"You do."

"Of course I do. He told me how you let slip something about him being a less than satisfactory candidate for Representative." When she heard the lie, Sarah made note of it so as not to let spill anything to the contrary. "Listen, you're trying to be a good queen, and this appointment is the next step in getting closer to your marriage. Hoggle can be a fool, but don't ever doubt, he loves you, as we all love you dear." The dwarf strained up to kiss Sarah's head as her child began struggling her way up the stump to join them.

"I don't think he loves me after what he said."

"Well whatever he said, you forget it and tonight, over supper, I'll make him apologize."

Laughing through the tears, Sarah rest her head on Drema's shoulder as Sarah One snuggled into her lap. "Why do you care so much for me when all my life, until now, we have been strangers?"

"Friends who had yet to meet!" she smiled. "Ever since I was young I had no one to call my family, that is until I married Hoggle and our Sarah came along. But he spoke of you so often and so kindly, I started to think of you as part of our family. Now you have a mother, deary and I would never be as presumptuous as to ask you to let me take her place, but were you to think of me as an aunt or a cousin, some part of your family, it would surely make my heart happy."

"Then happy be your heart kind woman for I think of you as if you were my very own flesh and blood aunt and this my cousin." Sarah squeezed both dwarves tightly to her. "Let us not spend one more day acting as if we're anything less than family. Where is my uncle Hoggle? I wish to mend bridges with him immediately and tonight a proper celebration at the castle. You will all join us at the castle for a feast."

"Will there be macaronies with cheese?" Sarah One asked.

"More than you could eat for a week," Sarah Two promised. "And root beer, an entire barrel, and for desert, strawberries and cream."

"Yea!" the tiny one cried.

"This is too much," Drema half scolded. "We don't extend you our hospitality in hopes of dining at the castle."

"Of course you don't, but if the castle is my home, what other hospitality am I to offer in kind." Drema opened her mouth to refute, but Sarah quickly spoke for her. "I'll have no more talk of it. Dinner tonight at the castle, 6:30." Before anyone could argue she snapped her fingers and was gone.

"72...73...74" Hoggle counted aloud as he walked along the labyrinth walls. "If this keeps up I'll have a hundred before lunch." Watching him from a far, Sarah couldn't help but giggle. The dwarf heard her, but went about his business as though she was no where around. "75..." he muttered distastefully, "...76..."

Wishing neither to surprise him nor to make her presence too obviously known, Sarah approached warily. "You're having quite a good day, aren't you?"

"I was."

"I don't blame you for being upset with me. I deserve it."

"Hmpf!"

"How long do you suppose you'll continue to be angry?"

"Being immortal I imagine it could last a while." Stepping away from where she stood, he went on about his business, "...77..."

"I'd like to apologize, if you let me."

"Can't stop you."

"I just came from your house Hoggle." Sarah sat on the edge of the fountain, "I just talked to Drema, or should I say Aunt Drema."

Startled, the dwarf let his atomizer hit the ground. He wagged a finger in her face, "She don't know who she is, least she didn't. She ain't never done nothin' to you, nothin' but take you in and care for you. The Supreme One knows I love you Sarah, but if you done anythin' to upset her, so help me, I'll never speak to you again."

She had great admiration for the way he defended his wife, but the way he spoke to her gave Sarah chills it was so cold. "I didn't say anything to her. In fact, it was her who said it to me."

"That's impossible!"

"She told me that I had a mother and she wouldn't want me to think of her as a mother, but perhaps as an aunt or a cousin. And I do Hoggle. I don't know what made me say the impetuous things I said yesterday, but I was wrong. She's as beautiful on the outside as any mortal I have known and twice as beautiful on the inside. You and she are treasures in my life and Sarah is more joy than I deserve to know. I am heartfully sorry for offending you and if you'll have me for a niece I would love to call you my Uncle."

"She said that did she?"

"More eloquently, but yes. And that made me realize that family grows in the heart. It doesn't matter if you share blood. It doesn't matter if you even know one another. You and Drema are my family, more so than my blood family. You have shown me greater loyalty, truer concern and deeper love. You must forgive me, otherwise, I shall never forgive myself."

Shyly he approached her, timid, his head down. "I forgives ya Sarah." His toe ground at the dirt beneath him. "I guess you kinda owed me one for that whole peach bit anyway."

"I suppose." Her arms spread wide to welcome him. "Come here, let me hug my uncle."

Rushing into her embrace, he commented, "I ain't never been nobody's uncle."

"Three more for dinner," Sarah hollered in to the kitchen when she returned to the castle.

"Yes milady," someone called back.

Calling for Arulan, she made her way up the staircase. With her feet set on the landing, she turned to find the elf she'd been paging. "Where is the king?"

"His office milady. Shall I interrupt him for you?"

"No thank you," she snapped her fingers and was eye to eye with Arulan. "I'll just pop in on him myself."

"But, milady..." Before Arulan could say another way, she'd gone off down the hall.

"Jareth," Sarah shouted as she burst through the door. Snapping his attention to her, he punctuated it with a look of surprise. "I invited Hoggle and his family for dinner." His eyes continued to grow wide until they began to monopolize his face and only then did Sarah bother to look about the room. Another set of judging eyes fell on her. "Good day Gavel," she curtsied, "please forgive the interruption." For the first time since she had been able to transport, Sarah appreciated being able to leave a room in an instant.

"She's made herself rather comfortable here," the Gavel observed.

"Indeed. Sarah has adjusted well to life in the Underground, but it does not surprise me. This is now her home," the king retorted.

The Gavel raised his brow. "May we get to the point of this meeting you called.

"I thought you'd never ask," the Goblin King folded his hands before him on the desk and straightened his posture. "Gavel, at the Christening you told me you would not proceed with the trial until I found a replacement for Tiberon." The Gavel leaned in, intrigued to hear the king's recommendation. "I am prepared to offer my replacement. Are you prepared to hold the trial?"

"You know I cannot approve your choice alone. The entire Triumvirate must hear you and approve your choice."

"I am familiar with the laws and the procedures. The purpose of my asking you here this afternoon was to make certain you intend to keep your end of the bargain."

"When will we move beyond this stalemate of distrust?" the Gavel asked.

"I imagine it will take some time."

"Indeed. I have a jury hand selected for the instant your candidate is approved." From his robe he pulled a diary. "If you are prepared to present your candidate, we can see you tomorrow, ten in the morning; otherwise, Tuesday next is the nearest availability."

"Tomorrow will do fine," Jareth hastily agreed.

The Gavel swept his hand over the page, setting the appointment. "Do you wish to check with your subject?"

"He is my subject. He will make himself available when he knows he is needed."

Tucking away the diary, the Gavel swilled the remainder of the brandy he had been served upon his arrival. "Until the morning," he said to the king as his hand pressed against the arms of the chair, bringing him to his feet.

"Until the morning," Jareth agreed, extending his hand to the Gavel. With his free hand, Jareth rang for Arulan. "Please show the Gavel out."

"Yes your majesty," Arulan curtsied. "Gavel, sir, may I?" He led the way as the elf followed in tow, looking over her shoulder once in an attempt to tell Jareth she was sorry for allowing Sarah to interrupt.

The king found Sarah in her chamber. "The Hoggles are joining us for dinner then are they?" Blushing, his betrothed nodded. "I see and may I inquire as to the occasion for this celebration.

"Drema wants to be my aunt," Sarah announced excitedly.

"Merciful Oberon, you didn't tell her who she once was?"

"I did not," she admitted, "but tell me, how is it that she doesn't know?"

"There's a memory spell put into effect when a child becomes one of us. It is for the best of the child and its parents. Surely you understand. Your own memory is divided between the world in which you live and the world in which you were born. Imagine how a child would come to terms with the feelings you've had to balance."

In those terms it did seem a just and merciful practice. "But she is now an adult, do you not think she might like to find that we are more family than she knows?"

"Does she not treat you like family even without that knowledge?" he asked. Sarah nodded. "Her love for you was not taught, not ordered by an elder, not obligatory, but of the best sort. She loves you freely and of her heart, so much so that she wishes you family even if her recollection tells her you are not. Isn't that enough?"

"More than enough," Sarah smiled. "And having come to that very same conclusion, is the reason for our celebration tonight. We have become a family of the heart." Relaying the tale of Drema's inquiry to Jareth touched him as deeply as it touched her. Knowing that she would have family here comforted him. "So naturally I insisted they join us for dinner and I promised Sarah One macaronies and cheese, fresh berries and cream."

"I shall inform the kitchen."

"Already done," Sarah informed.

Jareth nodded. "Just as well. I shall send word to them to pack for a night's stay. Tomorrow, I shall take Hoggle to the Triumvirate and present him as a candidate for Representative."

"Will Drema not discover, when Hoggle takes Tiberon's spot, that she is the reason he is now thought of as a royal?"

"Privacy is of the utmost importance here. Her privacy will be respected," Jareth explained. "The Triumvirate, myself and Hoggle are the only ones who will know Drema's true identity, thus the only ones who will ever know that the dwarf is a royal."

"That seems rather unfair," she protested.

"As you've come to learn Sarah, things here are not always fair," he reminded.

They arrived shortly past six, each with a small bag clutched in their hand. Sarah One running ahead, the arms, legs and ruffles of her clothing peaking from between the cracks of her suitcase. Drema did her best to keep up with her daughter, a neatly packed overnight case slamming against her thigh as she ran. Hoggle lagged behind, his few necessities tied inside a tablecloth dangling from the end of a pole. By the time he joined his family on the front steps to the castle doors, Hoggle's child was near the point of bursting being told to wait for her father. As though her feet were made of springs, she bounced vertically, crying out, "com' on, com' on, com' on," repeatedly.

Greeting them at the door, Sarah smiled broadly. "Welcome."

"We're going to spend the night at your house," the tiniest dwarf called.

"Is that so," Sarah Two asked. Sarah One nodded up at her. "Well then, I had best show you to your rooms."

The small family followed Sarah up the stairs to two bedrooms in the eastern wing of the castle, between them an adjoining door should Sarah One need anything in the night. Tossing her suitcase aside, the child immediately set out to test the springs on the mattress, leaping on it again and again until she was satisfied that it would do and then collapsing on the duvet in a fit of giggles. "Mercy me, if she sleeps a wink tonight I'll be amazed," Drema voiced.

"We shoulda stayed at the house. No one's goin' to get any sleep here tonight," Hoggle groused.

"Everything will be fine. It was Jareth's idea to have you stay, and so I'm sure it's important to him. Please Hoggle try to get along." Sarah knelt down and hugged the two of them. "I'm sure you'll find everything you need. The bath is two doors down on the opposite side of the hall. If there's anything I can get any of you, please let me know." Leaving her company behind Sarah went to check on the dinner preparations.

"Sarah," Jareth said, as they all sat around the dinner table, the elfish servants bringing out their portions, "what is this orange stuff on my plate?"

"Macaronies with cheese," she told him, "I thought I told you that was what Sarah asked for when I told her she'd be coming for dinner."

"So you had, and by all means let the child have her macaroni, but has cook prepared nothing for the adults. Sarah nodded at the plates which had been set before the entire party. They had identical foods upon them. "You all intend to eat this?"

"Jareth," Sarah whispered softly, "the Hoggles are trying to assert Sarah's independence by allowing her to occasionally choose the meal without letting her think she can have control over a situation by having it tailored to her. You wouldn't want to bring their parenting decisions into question by fussing over something so trivial as this."

"Of course not, of course not," he forced half a smile as by now their whispered conversation had attracted the dwarve's attentions. "But Sarah, It's congealed together in a lump so tightly I can tell which of the serving pieces cook used to plate it."

"Just try it, if you don't like it, I'll have cook fix you a snack after the little one's gone to bed." Her demur hand covered his glove.

"Something spreadable," he growled in a low tone, forgetting his company. Sarah blushed and shoved him playfully aside. Despite his objection, Jareth found himself rather found of the 'orange stuff' and when Sarah One politely enquired about seconds, he joined her in another helping.

When dinner ended, Sarah One, still smiling broadly at her fine meal, gulped down the remainder of her root beer and let out an enormous belch, for which she was quickly reprimanded by her mother. To make her seem less contemptible, Jareth too, polished off his beverage and tried his best to replicate the wee one, for which he was quickly chastised by Sarah Two for encouraging Sarah One. The child, on the other hand, thrilled at his momentary lapse into adolescence, exchanged a secret giggle across the table with the king.

"Don't see why we had to stay here. Ain't like I couldn'ta come in the mornin'" Hoggle grumbled.

Jareth cleared his throat before leveling at him, "That is precisely why you are here. You don't think the Triumvirate is going to take me seriously if I nominate a grousing, inarticulate barbarian to hold as respected a position as Representative."

"What's that sup'osta mean?" Hoggle asked angrily.

"It is _supposed to _mean, that if it takes the better part of the evening, I will personally groom you for tomorrow's meeting with the Triumvirate and tomorrow you will live up to the expectations I have for you, am I understood?"

The servants were bringing out dessert when Hoggle turned to Jareth, his wife and child distracted by the sweet berries and cream, "I _sup-pose _you are," he spat.

If either of them had three hours decent rest it would have been a miracle. Sarah awoke several times looking for Jareth on the pillow at her side, but each time he failed to appear. Even as morning startled her, she discovered him readying himself in the bath. Drema bragged of the best sleep she'd had in ages while admitting that a majority of it was done without Hoggle in the room. At the breakfast table, they ate no more than they slept. Truth be told the only one among them who had even a decent appetite was Sarah One, who was now well into her third stack of pancakes to everyone's amazement. When it was time to go, the men said their goodbyes and stood hip to shoulder before disappearing, leaving the women and child behind to wait and worry at the castle.

"Bringing servants with you then, eh Jareth?" the Gavel inquired when they arrived.

Hoggle stood proud, "I ain't no servant." Jareth nudged him roughly with his boot.

"So I see," the Gavel said as he eyed the dwarf. "You were to bring a nomination to us this morning king. I trust you did not go back on your word."

"Never. As always my word is as good as your own." His hand nudged Hoggle forward as he delivered a barely audible command for him to bow, then cleared his throat before articulating to the Triumvirate, "May I present my candidate for Representative of the Southwestern Sector of the Underground."

The Cleric smiled. The Sage immediately began riffling the pages of the precedent's log. The Gavel balled his hands into fists and ground them into the arms of his chair. "You dare to make a mockery of this court?" he bellowed.

"I dare no such thing," the king declared. "I have found you an irrefutable candidate."

"Irrefutable?" the Gavel roared. "Do I appear to you a fool? That," he pointed at Hoggle in disgust, "is a dwarf. A short, filthy, bow-legged, foul smelling dwarf!"

Showing all the restraint Jareth had spent the night drilling into him, Hoggle stood firm while he was berated, never flinching, no telltale signs on his face. "A dwarf to whom you will bow someday, I've no doubt of this."

"It says nothing about the Representative not being a dwarf," the Sage announced.

"More than that," Jareth cried gleefully. "More than what your book of standards doesn't say. More like exactly what does it say. What were the precise words?" He feigned deep thought. "'No royal shall be denied the title of Representative, so long as they are loyal to the king.' Hoggle has been most loyal to me for a good number of years."

"What of it?" the Gavel asked.

"Surely your highness, it doesn't take me to accentuate the fact for you." He paused a reasonable period of time, only to continue when no one spoke. "Check the record. This candidate's wife was once a mortal woman. That mortal woman was..."

The Gavel went pale as he finished the king's sentence, "Your betrothed's aunt, making this," and here again he indicated Hoggle with some disgust, "a royal by marriage."

"And," concluded the king merrily, "no royal shall be denied the title of Representative, so long as they are loyal to the king."

"Surely you see the impracticality of this?" the Gavel began to argue.

The Cleric chimed in, "I see no impracticality to it at all. In fact, no one I can think of has a better knowledge for the sector or a stronger devotion to the queen."

"The queen is not the king," the Gavel pointed.

"But he will preserve her happiness at any cost, Hoggle has proven that," the Cleric continued to match him particular for particular.

The Sage tossed in his undesired opinion, "Besides, think back. Did he not blindly follow the orders of the king when the mortal first visited us and then as fiercely follow her when she had won his heart. Indeed, his conflict was a deep one as he wrestled with himself in deciding whom he should remain true too. I think he would serve the king and queen nicely, more so now that their interests come from the same direction."

"None of you has an issue with this?" the Gavel gasped. No one replied.

"It is, for all points of law, a legitimate nomination. I believe him good for the society," said the Sage after a formidable silence.

The Cleric agreed, "Good? I believe him to be great. The Underground is in revolution and what more revolutionary statement to be made. With Tiberon jailed, soon to be brought to trial and punished, you are free to give these people a bloodless victory, the spoils of war traded for the sheer triumph when a member of an unintentionally made lower class proves to them any dream can come to fruition with hard work and devotion."

"Let them see us stand by our proposals for a change," Jareth chimed in. "For if I can change, and I have, surely it is possible for anyone."

Left with no other choice, the Gavel looked to the dwarf, "Is this a responsibility you desire?"

Squaring his shoulders he spoke as profoundly as Jareth had taught him, "Only a fool would welcome being heaped with the responsibility of pioneering a change in such an old world as ours," there was a tiny gasp synchronized by those in attendance. "No your highness, I may not desire this, but I deserve it, for all of the reasons proposed here this morning. I deserve this responsibility and I cherish the opportunity, not only to serve my king and the lady who will be my queen, but to serve as an example to my child and to all the children of the Underground, to impassion for them what dreaming big, believing in yourself and remaining loyal can achieve."

"Nicely said," the king commented.

"Indeed," the Gavel submitted. "Beginning tomorrow morning, the sector is yours to oversee utilizing the laws of your king and your community."

"And the trial," Jareth asked as the Triumvirate moved to leave.

The Gavel looked at him in utter contempt, "The trial shall be two days from now." The king smiled. Two days! At once he felt both joy and disappointment. It was very soon and yet not soon enough.

A constant stream of grumbling ambiguity streamed from Hoggle as he sat stubbornly in the center of their living room in protest at, as he put it, 'being dragged out of his home and forced to live in _that_ castle.' Around him, progress went on despite his objections. Drema packed up the dishes and Sarah One moved pillows and blankets to the carriage outside the stump.

"I have people who can do this sort of thing for them," Jareth groaned as he and Sarah worked one of the bureaus out of the bedroom.

"Be that as it may," she agreed, "moving is a personal thing and no one wants strangers in their home toting out their memories and personal treasures. Moving out great grandmother's dining room table and snapping off a leg from it as if it were a cheap piece of Wal-mart compression board with no more than an 'I'm sorry' as compensation for something so irreplaceable."

"Must you dramatize everything?"

Sarah smiled at him, "Only when I need you to see things my way. Hoggle's family is the only family I have left now. I want to be there for them."

"Then perhaps you should leave the rest of the furniture to Deverell and I and focus your persuasive energies on the immobile stone of a man waging protest in the next room."

"I shall do my best," she promised grazing his cheek with her lips, "but you are much easier to persuade than he is."

"I'm offended by that," Jareth declared as he snatched her arm, returning her kiss with a more passionate one which burnt her lips.

"Ain't goin'!" Hoggle shouted each time Sarah attempted to reason with him. "Ain't goin' and you can't make me!"

"All your things and all your family are going. You don't expect to remain behind with just your pride do you?"

Hoggle looked at her sternly, "Rather live with nothin' and no one than inhabit the house of a cur."

"You stubborn thing. After everything that's been done for you, after all the providence you've been given. What about what you said at the Triumvirate's yesterday?" He looked at her as if he'd been caught in a lie. "Yes, Jareth told me. You deserved this, were happy for the opportunity so on so forth, just words, words without meaning."

"Were not!"

"Oh please," Sarah sighed at him. "A man who could understand so deeply what chance truly is would also be wise enough to realize a house is nothing more than sod and stone, earth and wood. He would know even a prison cell can feel like home if there is love inside of it. Most importantly, he would see the hope to take something touched by evil and baptize it with goodness, but I guess you can only talk about those sort of things."

Before she could leave him alone to think over what she had said, his stout legs were pounding on the earth beneath his feet, lapping her. "Well, what are you all waitin' for? It's my first day on the job. All this lollygaggin' is makin' me late. You want them all to think I can't get the job done, do you? Well not when Hoggle's in charge!" Over his shoulder, the dwarf gave Sarah a good hard 'I'll show you' kind of look, only to have his smugness counteracted by her charming approving smile, to which he unwittingly smiled back. She beamed with pride at him, warming his heart like sun on his skin.

"No Sarah."

"Why not?"

"No Sarah."

"I'm sorry," she protested. "Which part of this 'No Sarah' you're so found of responding with serves to answer my question?"

"The part where I remind you this man has done nothing but connive and torment you since you arrived back Underground," Jareth answered more fully. "And if that isn't enough then let me reiterate the part where he tried to kill me several times, where he succeeded in killing several members of our court. He is evil and if you think a foolish thing like being found out will stop him from wanting to destroy every shred of happiness I have, you're wrong. I won't have you there, I won't give him the opportunity to take you from me as well. There are some things not worth sacrificing." Kissing her with unabashed passion the king added, "More succinctly, no Sarah."

"The Triumvirate will be present, you will be present, what have I to fear?" she asked kissing him back.

"Give an old man a break. Humor me for what I have to fear then," he begged her as he swam in the hypnotic sea foam green of her eyes. "Please Sarah, love, stay here where you're sure to be safe."

"As you wish," she conceded, kissing him one more time before reminding him he would be expected home by dinner.

For so many years the courthouse in the mountain range had sat dormant. Justice rarely reached the level of requiring anything more than mediation since the raids had come to pass, but early this morning fey were sent to ready the chambers and the court. Even with their hard work and the incense they burnt in every room, the dank musty smell of history still reeked in the wood and in the walls. Not surprisingly, Jareth was the first to arrive. He came alone, leaving Deverell at home to watch over Sarah in the odd chance that Tiberon had the forethought to arrange something knowing the king would be free from the castle. They'd all admonished him when he announced his decision to go alone, charged him with being a fool and various other crimes of pride, but nothing convinced him better.

Taking his seat behind the table where he knew the Cleric and the Sage would sit, Jareth inhaled deeply. Beneath the mask of pachouli and spice, the stench of cryptitude soaked into the walls comforted him. It reminded him of older times, before all that had happened with Tiberon and his father, even before Sarah was a concept in the Underground when all anxieties, even those which accompanied love, especially those, evaded him. The smooth cool wooden pews had reminded him of a house of worship. Deep in the recesses of his private mind, Jareth repeated notions to himself that focused mainly on the equitable outcome of the trial he was about to pay witness to.

The shuffle of steady feet and swish of a robe broke his concentration as the Cleric entered and took his seat. "Don't worry yourself old man, he's bound in irons and every ally he made is dead. Sarah's as safe as a fairy floating over the bog."

"I'd still feel better to see him in exile to another realm."

"I haven't sat in this courtroom since..." the Cleric began.

Jareth looked up at him, "Since my grandfather was tried for his brother's murder?"

"Right around then, yes. Is that what you're thinking of?"

"When last this courtroom filled with an audience, it was to watch a great miscarriage of justice done. If the same should happen today..." He meant to finish his thought, but to be truthful, the king didn't know what he would do. There were times he thought he'd choke Tiberon with his own hands, but quickly thought better of giving away his soul for a fey of Tiberon's questionable character.

"This is a circumstance quite unlike what happened to Darien. You said yourself how substantially things were changing here, have faith child," he reached to cover Jareth's hand as the courtroom began to fill with others come to witness the first trial in centuries, tapping it reassuringly, "and believe."

The Gavel was the last to enter once the courtroom was full, and it was full. Folks had gathered outside with their ears pressed to the stones trying to hear. It was a remarkable turn out. The Sage and the Cleric stood as their third came in. Promptly he seated them and asked of the guard, "Bring in the accused."

Tiberon was led in. Iron chains bound his wrists and ankles. The mere sight of him set Jareth ill at ease and the fey knew it, for he looked deliberately in the king's direction and bared his jagged teeth in a crooked vile sneer. He stood a guard to either side of him, at a table on the same parallel as the other members of the Triumvirate separated from them by an aisle. Neglecting the authority of the Gavel, he chose to concentrate all of his attentions on the king, angling his neck back and sideways to view him best.

The Gavel's hands thundered down onto his podium, "The accused would be behooved if he were to focus on the man conducting his trial rather than thirst for the prize which put him here." Methodically, Tiberon's neck turned as if controlled by cogs until he eyed the Gavel. "Tiberon, have you been notified of the charges against you?"

"Aye."

"Then tell the court, how do you plead?" The Cleric and the king moved their lips silently and hastily in prayer, but even the Supreme One himself couldn't have prepared them for what was about to happen.

"How do I plead?" he growled. Looking around the courtroom, Tiberon made certain to link his eyes to every pair which dared look back. "I plead contempt, contempt for everyone in this room, contempt for everyone in this realm. It was I who should have been king. I was my father's first born, not that weakling you bow down to now and his precious mortal. You would all rather a human become queen than see me get my come uppings and because of that you revolt me, you all revolt me."

The Gavel stood over his podium and leveling a stern eye on the accused and he hissed slowly, "The options are guilty or not guilty Tiberon. Now, how do you plead?"

Such a sneer had never been seen by any resident Underground, not on fey nor beast. Tiberon's head tilted back, a cackle breaking the silence settling over the courtroom. In a rolling purr, he replied, "Guilty, guilty," each repetition was less laughter and more hate, increasing in decibel and decreasing in pitch until the deep crescendo of his insanity ended, "GUILTY!"

The crowd gasped. Jareth exchanged a shocked look with the Cleric. "Seeing as how you admit to the charges brought before you today, the court sees fit..."

Tiberon interrupted the Gavel's sentencing. "Why shouldn't I have done all the things you accuse me of? Everything that is his should be mine. His castle, his kingdom, his bride, all meant for me. He should have died. He should have died the same way his filthy mortal father died and then he could lie in his crazy mother's embrace for all eternity."

It took both the other members of the Triumvirate to hold Jareth back and even then just barely. No words came to him as the seething anger ravaged his mind it seemed to consume his coherency leaving nothing more for him to articulate but a guttural cry.

"Enough," the Gavel called. "This is a courtroom not a jousting circle and it will remain orderly or we shall have a string of trials here today. Have you anything else to say king?" Jareth shook his head. He knew that to utter a single one of his thoughts would mean punishment for him as well, punishment which would most likely effect his marriage to Sarah. "Tiberon have you anything else of a constructive nature to say."

"Indeed," he said. "I propose the king himself be brought to trial as I challenge him for all that should have been mine."

"Jareth, step forward." Upon command he rose. "Come and join my brothers' sides. Do you admit to Tiberon's lineage?"

"You know he is who he says he is."

"I do, but do you admit to it?"

"Aye."

"And would you willingly secede your throne to him based on this fact?"

Surely he was kidding? Knowing all that Tiberon was capable of, how could he want to see him made king after the havoc he had caused. It was a test, one that Jareth would get no assistance with. "Yes," he admitted as a second great gasp ran through the crowd. "Based solely on that fact I would have conceded my throne to him, promptly and gladly."

Grabbing his arm, the Gavel mumbled softly, "What are you doing?"

Jareth looked down and mouthed, 'have faith and believe.' "However, I could not with, even the slightest peace of mind, do such a thing knowing that my subjects would face the rule of a depraved maniac. The kingdom has always been his birthright, for centuries and in all that time he could have come to me, challenged me, brought me here to claim his fortune, but he didn't. He stewed in the juices of his own hate until the only solution he saw was to kill anything and anyone who stood in his way of getting what he was convinced had been kept from him, even while the rest of us, sans a handful, had no knowledge of who he really was."

"You wouldn't have surrendered your throne. Not the vain and confident Goblin King!"

"We'll never know now because you never gave me the chance," Jareth went on cooly. "And even if I had handed you this kingdom, the time would have come when it was no longer enough. Tell me then who would you have challenged, the Triumvirate, the Supreme One himself?"

"Why not? They should all bow to me, for mine would have been supreme rule, one of confidence and precision. I would not allow my subjects to defy me, let alone skittish human girls fulfilling wet dreams by summoning the king." Tiberon rocked on his heals, pleased with himself. "Punishment to fit the crime I say."

"And when your subjects did defy you as they are apt to do?"

"To hell with them. I would kill anyone who dare to object, disobey or disrespect me."

"And when no one was left in the kingdom for you to rule?"

"On to the mountain, slay these fey elders as they slept, take over their kingdoms, force the strongest into the mines to bring me diamonds that I would take Aboveground to trade for all the luxuries any fey could ever want. The mortals would fall at my feet for the riches I could offer. I would bring them back, have my use of them, work the men, ravage the women. None would be as powerful as me, not in this world or in any other." Tiberon attempted to break his chains, struggling madly against his restraints until the guard was forced to cast a sedation spell upon him.

Jareth approached the Gavel's podium, "This is why I would never willingly vacate my throne, despite the facts your highness, he is a fey of lowest moral turpitude, not worthy of the loyalty from a rat let alone the loyalty of our people." Applause could be heard as Jareth concluded. The Gavel smiled. The Sage hung his head, still regretting his part in all of this.

"Well put your majesty," the Gavel admitted. "Tiberon, in as much as you have pleaded guilty to the charges brought against you and in as much as you have proven yourself a poison to this realm, you are hereby sentenced to eternity in the Northeastern Sector in the cliffs where you will be bound by iron shackles for all your days. A magnetic barrier shall be arranged on the perimeter of the cliffs where you will be permitted and to keep you from doing any further harm against the people of this realm and their king, your powers are remanded immediately. Guard, take this man to his cell and arrange for his transport the second the magnetic fence is installed."

Cheers erupted in the courtroom. The Cleric rushed to Jareth's side, "Fine job," he said swiftly pounding his back in triumph.

"Clear the courtroom," the Gavel instructed.

"Wait," Jareth called. "Our wedding, you vowed our wedding could take place upon the completion of this trial."

"Surely you didn't think I meant the minute of it's completion."

"Surely I did, sir." Those in attendance took their seats once more suddenly intrigued by the king's plea.

"For any unintentional misrepresentation, I apologize, but you shall be expected to abide by the engagement period set in place for you and your betrothed."

Fuming he let his heart's most real feelings pour forth. "In an effort to avoid any such unintentional misrepresentation on my part let me state this as clearly as possible. Sarah and I have proven ourselves to you a hundred times over. She has been christened fey and our feelings for one another will not fade regardless of your contrary hopes. She is my life, not this meager heart beating within my chest, not these lungs which constantly fill and expel the air around me. It is not the iron blade I fear. It is that woman. She is the reason I breathe, take her from me and I die. My love for her is my immortality. It is the part of me that can never die, the thing that has kept me alive when I have begged to die. I have waited nearly sixteen years for her and I have waited long enough."

"This is not your trial Jareth," the Gavel reminded. "Now be seated."

"Allow me to correct myself then. This is not my trial, true. But this is a trial meant to bring justice for the wrong done by Tiberon."

"And so that justice has been done."

"I beg to differ," Jareth went on. "You have prevented him from causing further harm, but you have not justified what he has done already."

"Dear king, even I cannot bring back the loved ones he has cost you."

"That is true. But it is because of him my marriage has been delayed again and again and you have the capacity my dear Gavel to correct that injustice immediately. Tiberon has cost me enough, I will not allow it to cost me one more minute with the woman I love."

"Come then Gavel," the Cleric asked. "Is there nothing we can do for him?"

"I do so feel at least partially to blame for this," the Sage added. "Seeing his favor granted would bring me a great deal of absolution."

"I'm sorry," the Gavel said meaning to initiate another of his 'the-law-is-the-law' speeches, but Jareth cut him short.

"If we have learned nothing else from all that has transpired since Tiberon effected his plan to take over this realm, let us at least acknowledge this. Our friends may be immortal beings, but even immortality does not ban death. They may be taken from us any day as the fate's choose with or without our consent or acceptance. I did not have time to show my kindness and my true heart to Turgomon who served me loyally. Furthermore, my grandfather, perhaps if he had lived to understand this change in me, to see the change taken place in each of you, to see a dwarf take the position of Representative, perhaps a change could have grown in him as well. My parents never lived to hear me say I loved them and when at last I was able to utter such necessities to my mother, even her spirit was stolen from me. I shall not suffer one more day unable to be a husband to my truest love because of Tiberon."

The Gavel looked over his constituents. "Are there any objections?" Two shaking heads told him there were not. "I see. Well then to further repair the wrongs done to this kingdom and its people by the accused, I hereby lift the waiting period imposed upon the king and the lady Sarah."

"Bravo," the Cleric cried. "So," he asked Jareth, "I'm free this weekend, that is to say, if you were interested in my performing the ceremony."

"I would consider no other." With that decided, they shook hands firmly.

"People of this kingdom, return to your homes," the Gavel announced, "ready yourselves to receive your new queen. This hearing is adjourned."

Jareth looked up at the figure of justice before him and saw him humbled by what had been said in his courtroom today. "Thank you," he said in deep earnest.

"I am not a fey comfortable with so much change Jareth. It may be that you think me a hard man, an unfeeling man, a bitter man, it is not the person I mean to be, but rather the person I have become. Perhaps in time I too will transform the way everything and everyone else here seems capable of doing, but until then I beg and value your patience."

"None is more deserving of patience than a man willing to try," Jareth pronounced as he shook hands with the Gavel. "Certainly I have tested yours enough that you deserve some of mine in exchange."

"An equitable transaction," the Gavel said.

Smiling, Jareth agreed.


	42. Chapter 41

**CHAPTER FORTY ONE - THE MOMENT THEY'D ALL BEEN WAITING FOR**

Arriving home, Jareth could barely contain his joy. Arulan was the first he saw, his telltale grin saying more than his words ever could. "My, my, my, look at you. Don't you look like a wildcat let loose in an aviary."

"Is it all so obvious?" he asked.

"Why shouldn't it be? What you did today will be a legend in the Underground for centuries to come," the elf beamed proudly.

"I wouldn't care if it were all to be forgotten tomorrow," Jareth said truthfully, "so long as it got me the freedom to marry Sarah."

"Rest assured it has gotten you both. I'm very proud of you," she flung her arms about his neck, kissing his cheek quickly. Into his ear, Arulan whispered. "She's been in her chambers all day, waiting for you to return, refusing to allow any of us to pay visit."

"Is something wrong?"

"I'm sure she feels the same partiality you do when the two of you are separated. Go to her and her world will be righted once again. I'll have something sent up to tide you both until dinner."

"Thank you Arulan."

Jareth took the stairs in threes, his anxiety causing him to forget his ability to transport and make ridiculous demands of his impractical footwear.

When he threw open their chamber's door, Jareth found Sarah crying on the bed, a crystal very near her head. "What is it Sarah?" he cried.

Lifting her head, she admitted, "Everything you said..."

His hand enveloped her tear stained cheeks as he realized she had watched the trial in a crystal. "Everything I said was nothing more than the truth."

"Your truth is more beautiful than any truth my old world could ever show."

"The harsh truths of your world will forever be a memory to you now love, our wedding is set for this week's end," Jareth reminded her.

"I know," she said, the pink fading from her eyes and reappearing merrily on her cheeks. "I can scarcely believe it, I'm so excited."

"Imagine it Sarah, imagine finally we will belong to one another, no one to speak against it, nothing to keep us apart. To have you for my wife, it is my richest dream." The kiss which followed was a rough one, his passion so strong it would have easily devoured her if she hadn't matched his fervor in return. In seconds their mad longings had them pawing at one another, clinging steadfast as if their contact was the only thing sustaining their lives. "I love you," he reminded her in the brief second he could bear to keep his lips from hers.

Before she could reply in kind Arulan was knocking at the door, no doubt come to bring them something to eat, sending them to neutral corners. Sarah's hand waved over her face sending off the perspiration on her brow and the crimson in her cheeks as Jareth granted Arulan access to their room. "Well," Arulan said as she looked from one to the other, "when is the wedding?"

Giggling, Sarah looked away shyly, content to let Jareth answer on their behalves. "There will be an announcement made at dinner."

"Oh, come on, you can tell me."

"An announcement will be made at dinner."

"But I'm..."

"Thank you for the tray Arulan, you do take the finest care with us."

"Jareth, surely..."

"We look forward to seeing you at dinner tonight." The elf looked at him with sad eyes. "Surely you understand we've much to discuss before we're prepared to share our happy news with anyone else."

"Of course," she curtsied.

As the door closed behind her, Sarah could no longer hold back a strong giggle. "Jareth, you're terrible!"

"Forgive me if I want our happiness only to our selves for a few short hours, if I want the news to come from us both rather than as a singular directive."

"Forgiven," Sarah declared.

For hours they lie there, no words to exchange between them, only the shared sensation of overwhelming relief. In five days they would be married, all they had fought for would at last be granted them and eternity would be theirs to wile away at their leisure. Then it sunk in, they were to be wed in five days and nothing had been stitched, baked, painted, planned, or prepared. In fact, no one had even been notified. As if the realization hit them in a synchronized blast, they both sat bolt upright, looked at one another and spouted the first things to come to mind.

"I've got to get the seamstress to make my dress."

"Where will put everyone?"

"Who should we invite?"

"Cook will need a count."

In seconds the horror in their eyes was replaced by wild laughter at their own idiocy. "Sarah," the king spoke softly as he stroked her hair, "if it is only you and I and the daisies I shall be pleased. We can dine on meed and clothing shall be optional."

"Perfect as that sounds," Sarah agreed as she nestled against Jareth, "we will only do this once in all our lives. I'm not saying it has to be extravagant, but let's make what we want of it."

"My thoughts precisely. Let's decide who we want to invite and then after we announce the wedding at dinner I can talk to cook and you can go see about having your dress begun."

"Jareth, how are we going to decide? I mean we've gone around these last how many months preaching better equality to the masses, stressing community over class and then we hand pick the guests to our wedding? What would that say about us?"

"So you want to invite the entire realm," the king chuckled but Sarah's look of seriousness did not fade. "You really want to invite the entire realm?"

"Well the ones who want to come," she shrugged. "Not everyone's going to be free on such short notice."

"Sure, most of them will probably have important dates to keep with foreign dignitaries. Sarah! We can't invite the whole realm. Where will we put them? What will we feed them?" His arms folded around her, "Trust me love, it's perfectly acceptable to be selective when it comes to this, it's expected." Knowing she'd never agree to the same attendants from their planned elopement, Jareth began whittling back number in his head until finally he suggested, "How about this? The Triumvirate, the Representatives, the castle's court and all of the Goblin City. That's generous."

"Ludo and Didymus should be there too. Can we invite the inhabitants of the Labyrinth?"

"Do you want the fire gang at our wedding?"

"No."

Jareth sighed with relief. "Fine then. The Triumvirate, the Representatives, the castle's court, all of the Goblin City and the creatures in my employee. That will include the lummox and the fox."

"What about Winston and Jena?"

"Are you serious? A couple of worms!"

"They've been very kind to me," Sarah pleaded.

"Fine, I shall employ him for some trivial purpose before we announce the ceremony tomorrow. Is there anyone else?"

Sarah thought hard about everyone she had met both before and since her return. "Twink and the bard. I wouldn't feel right not having them there."

"Don't worry love, I have special plans for the two of them. Alright then can we agree, The Triumvirate, the Representatives, the castle's court, all of the Goblin City and the creatures in my employee which will soon include Winston?"

"Agreed," she smiled up at him, surprisingly content with the reduced guest list. Just then the dinner bells sounded and albeit Pavlovian, the couple's mouths began to water. A wave of their hands in unison and they were dressed and ready to join the rest of the house in the dinning hall.

Intentionally Jareth cut his food into miniature pieces, so meticulously the others sat staring, some on their third or fourth flagon of mead. "For mercy's sake your majesty, please make the announcement," Arulan pleaded as she leaned over to the king.

Smiling widely, allowing his jagged teeth to reflect the candlelight, Jareth asked, "And what announcement might that be?"

"You know full well what I'm speaking of!"

"Ah, so I do," he admitted, ringing the bell just in front of his place setting. As the staff filed in, the Goblin King made eye contact momentarily with each of them and then calmly announced, "I would like a second helping."

Tiny elvish hands pummeled him. "Blast you! Since you were a child I've fallen for your games. Now tell them about the wedding this instant or with my own hands I'll...oh you infuriate me to the point of not knowing what I would do!"

"Wedding?" one of the staff asked.

"I see another cat has been left loose to wander my kingdom," Jareth concluded as he eyed Arulan. "Allow me to clarify that which my servant has prefaced for me. Ladies and gentlemen, it pleases me beyond words to announce formally that Sarah and I will be wed five days from today at three in the afternoon. You are all invited to be our guests, but first I beg assistance from each of you in readying for the major event."

A small voice from the wait staff piped up, "Does this mean you don't want a second helping?"

"No, no thank you, but more mead, all around!"

Cheers erupted in the tiny room from all but Arulan who let loose the tears she'd been waiting to cry.

For the next few days, it was anything but business as usual around the castle. Drema had taken over running the schools so Sarah was free for fittings and floral appointments and Deverell ran the Underground while Jareth met with the chefs and musicians. Each night the anxious couple met in bed, sometimes having not seen one another since waking that day. Jareth would wrap his bride up in his arms and shower her with his attentions. Sarah responded to his touch, curling into his side. Both could hardly find the desire to sleep, their anticipation filling them with too much energy to rest, but at the same time, if they could close their eyes and part with this conscious world for just a few hours it would speed the arrival of their nuptials. Sarah used her magic to call the wind, using its easy rhythm to lull them to sleep. Content in one another's warm embrace they watched the curtains give the imperceptible guest shape, bringing with it the sweet peace of slumber.

Limited as their time together was, they managed to remain positive. After all, they were working toward their wedding. The last full day before the wedding, the finishing touches were put into place. Last minute decisions were made over decorations and seating assignments and in keeping with the melding of the traditions, the Cleric arrived shortly before dinner to walk everyone through the ceremony which would take place the following day. Naturally he was invited to stay for dinner, but it was at the end of the meal that attempting to honor both traditions took an unbearable turn.

Goodbyes said to the Cleric, he was seen out and with all of the festivities for the wedding in play, the king planned to excuse himself and his bride to be for an early evening. "About that your majesty," Deverell said looping his arm through Jareth's and walking him off in a direction which did not lead to his chamber.

Simultaneously Arulan escorted Sarah away, using the bustle as a cover for her actions. "Where are you taking me?"

"To your room, milady. You need plenty of rest for tomorrow."

"Where's Deverell taking Jareth?"

Arulan stumbled for words, "Yes, well, his majesty will be sleeping in one of the guest rooms this evening." Shuffling Sarah up the stairs she added, "Don't worry, he'll be fine. Now come along."

"Arulan, why is Jareth staying in a separate room?"

"Is that not your tradition, milady? Do the bride and groom not spend the night before their wedding apart from one another?"

"Not this again," Sarah groaned before conceding. "Yes Arulan, that is the custom."

Lagging behind the elf by four or so feet, Sarah obediently followed her to the room which held so little interest for her now without Jareth to be found within it. As they reached the door, Arulan reached for the knob, "Your room milady," she said with grand gesture as she bowed low and flung open the door.

As she stepped inside, Sarah gasped. The entire room was changed, just for this night, just fo her. Everything was draped in white lace. The bed made with white linens, all around the room huge vases filled with white roses. White candles giving off warm light all around the room. Inhaling deeply, Sarah was instantly put at ease by the mix of rose musk and lily of the valley scented candles. "It's gorgeous!" she exclaimed. "Thank you." Her arms folded around the elf and she pulled her tight.

"I'm glad you like it miss," Arulan said as she allowed her face to fall against Sarah's rich black hair. "Anything else you need, don't hesitate to ask, at any hour of the day or night. After tomorrow I'll be your servant too, you should get used to calling on me."

"You have always been more than a servant to me Arulan, and to Jareth. After tomorrow, you shall be even less a servant I'm sure." The elf smiled when she felt Sarah's lips press against her cheeks and Sarah did the best to not fuss over the salty wetness she found there.

"Are you mad?" Jareth asked when Deverell showed him the spare room they had chosen for him. "This is a guest room...that bed is barely larger than Arulan!"

"Sorry your majesty, but 'tis bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, so say the mortals."

Jareth groaned as he sat on the edge of the bed, "So they say alright," great disappointment evident on his face. As he fell back against the mattress, the distinct difference in length between became fabulously apparent, for while his knees folded over the lower most end of the mattress, there was little more than a pillow's width above his head. "Idiotic mortal customs!" he groused.

"We all thought you would be agreeable to this," Deverell chided as he began to close the door behind him, "And you should know we've already anticipated your trying to sneak out to see Sarah and I feel it only fair to warn you that the halls have been trapped."

"Of course," the king sighed as he folded himself up into the bed, "I wouldn't have it any other way." He lie there waging war against sleep, practically refusing it, for if he were to be honest, he would have admitted that sleep was more likely and certainly more able to come to him when Sarah was not in his arms. Her presence filled his mind with thoughts of waking activities. With no such distractions he would have easily been able to rest, but he simply refused.

Waving his hand Jareth separated the curtain above his head. The night sky was midnight blue filled with silver specks of light. He wondered if sleep had as strongly appealed to her as it did to him. As if it had a voice of its own the sky seemed to call to the king until what should have been obvious from the beginning became too clear to avoid. Quietly as he could, his sensitive ears alert for bells or whistles, Jareth slid open the window pain. Relaxing his lithe body he allowed it to fall forward from the sill. A second before he hit the ground, his royal garb was exchanged for a coat of fine winter white barn owl feathers and in the silver light of the moon his feather's earth toned markings glowed bronze. Even all these centuries later the feeling of flying still thrilled Jareth and before landing gingerly on the sill of their bed chamber window, he found it hard to resist taking a long circle around the back grounds of the castle, stretching his wings wide and allowing the breeze to take him where it liked. When he peered through the window, he immediately noticed the curtains parted precisely as he had done in his own room. The window was open which, while making the landing much easier, was no real surprise. He was fully aware of how much she loved to sleep with the windows open.

Wide yellow eyes peeked in over the headboard to find Jareth's bride fast asleep in a cloud of white linens, surrounded by a snowy veil which draped the entire bed. All but the candles in the chandelier had gone out, providing just enough light to make Sarah's alabaster skin distinguishable from the satin sheets, while providing enough shadow to hide his presence and to blend her raven hair into the darkness. Sleep had indeed claimed her, leaving behind a slight smile on her delicate lips. Secretly he hoped she was dreaming of their wedding. For a few more moments he watched on from the window until his having seen her looking so peaceful made him ready to accept the sleep which had been so generously offered earlier.

Once more he fell from the sill on which he had been perched, this time with his wings already in tow, and glided through the sky one more time, before returning to his room, returning to his fey shape and gladly allowing sleep to overtake him.

Sweeping in gently through the window and shaking Sarah awake with a searing touch, the sun roused her from her dreams. Shining like platinum, the yards of white surrounding her seemed to ingest the golden rays. For a minute she forgot where she was. 'I'm dead,' she thought. 'I've died and gone to heaven.' It was Arulan bursting through the door with tray in hand that reminded her she was very much alive.

"Time for your last breakfast as a single woman," the elf sang, forcing Sarah to admit that she was more nervous about today than she may have originally thought.

"I don't think I want to eat anything," Sarah grumbled.

"Don't be silly. You've got to have something in your stomach. You don't want to get faint in the middle of the ceremony do you?"

The idea of that had never occurred to Sarah. She'd thought at great length about tripping in the aisle or forgetting the words, not being able to get the ring on, her make up running when she started to cry, getting tangled in the ribbons that hung from her flowers when she tried to pass them away, but passing out never occurred to her. Looking at the tray she debated, queasy stomach, light head, queasy stomach, light head. In the end, she nibbled at the plain toast and drank her juice figuring that it was better to make a small attempt to satisfy each ailment than to overlook one in its entirety.

"Now then," Arulan said as she sat on the edge of the bed opening a small folder, "the seamstress will be by in an hour to fit your dress for any last minute touch ups, then we've got to get you squeaky clean and done just so before you're dressed. His majesty has planned for you to arrive in a carriage at the end of the aisle once all the guests are seated, so we should have you boarded by quarter to and then the rest is up to you my dear." Lovingly, she smiled at Sarah which immediately made her eyes begin to water. "What is it milady? Is something on the schedule not to your liking?"

"No, Arulan, no, everything on the schedule is fine. I suppose that in all this rush to prepare for our wedding little things escaped me and only now, when things are becoming real have they occurred to me."

"Whatever they are milady, we still have time, albeit not much, but some, to weave your every heart's desire. Tell me what I can do for you?"

Flowing freely the tears stained Sarah's cheeks. "I'm afraid no one can give me what my heart desires most, for no one can change my mother and make her the kind of woman who would have sat with me on my wedding day, tucking flowers into my curls and passing down some family heirloom for me to carry. No one can bring me my father to walk me down the aisle, patiently stroking my hand and apologizing for whatever idiotic thing my step mother has just said and Toby, this all started because of him and he's not even here."

Embracing the woman tenderly Arulan smoothed her hair. "Hush, love, hush," she repeated rocking her gently in her arms. "I know how much you miss them, how much you wish they were here, but you realize things cannot be exactly as you wish." Sarah looked up at her nodding wearily and dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief she'd summoned. "However, there is a tradition in your world of bringing a number of things with you to the alter, correct?" Eyeing her with much confusion, Sarah had no reply. "Something old, new, borrowed and blue?"

"I've taken care of that," Sarah said opening her bedside table.

"Never mind what you've collected Sarah dear, I have a collection for you which I'm sure you'll prefer to anything you've gathered here." Intrigued, she watched Arulan carefully as the elf flitted about the room. "Your dress is new," she reminded. Lying out a long satin ribbon on the bed she announced, "I had the seamstress make this from an extra piece of my dress fabric." It matched exactly the rich navy they had selected to compliment Arulan's blonde hair. From a dresser drawer she pulled a small box, "These," she told the girl as she opened it for her to see.

Sarah didn't let her finish, "Those were my mother's," she supplied when she saw the thin silver chain and diamond pendant, hung between two posted diamond solitaires.

"Borrowed," Arulan shrugged, but Sarah seemed unphased by the admission. "And this," she whispered in phantom secrecy handing over what had once been a white four inch square box, now yellowed by age, with rounded corners from handling. Inside she found a lace trimmed linen hankie embroidered with:

_Nick and Francis Williams_

_Today, tomorrow and forever_

_June 21, 1934_

Sarah held the swatch of fabric to her cheek, it smelled of storage, but it smelled familiar to her too and suddenly home was all around her. Tears of sadness were replaced by tears of joy and the sluggish start to her day became an eagerness to perform all the tasks associated with readying for the wedding.

The king was a separate story entirely. When Deverell finally arrived to see if he had stirred, the king's assistant found his majesty fully dressed in his wedding clothes and impatiently pacing the floor. "I mean it's ridiculous to schedule something like this for the afternoon. What is one supposed to do with the bulk of their day sitting around waiting for the sun to fall half way down the western horizon."

"Most grooms don't rise with the rooster on the day of their wedding, your majesty."

Turning on his heels he faced Deverell with poignant seriousness, "Most grooms have not waited nearly sixteen years for their brides. Most grooms have not nearly lost their brides on three separate occasions and on a permanent basis."

"So you're saying you have extenuating circumstances," Deverell chided. "Come Jareth, sit with me, have some tea, destroy me a few times at chess and you'll find it's time to walk you down the aisle before you know it."

"Have you surveyed the grounds to be sure everything's perfect?"

"No," he admitted. "I came straight here."

"Can I rely on you for nothing!" the king shouted.

Wisely Deverell chose not to take the king's outburst to heart. "I could only assume, your majesty that my observations wouldn't satisfy what you could see with your own eyes."

"Indeed," Jareth proclaimed as he started for the door.

Grabbing his shoulder, Deverell reminded him, "Perhaps you'd rather not inspect the grounds in your formal wear." Jareth eyed him critically and waved his hand for a more casual appearance.

Sarah stood in front of the mirror, as Arulan scaled the footstool at her side and placed upon her crown of curls a headpiece, four inches wide at the center and tapering down behind her ears. The base was white satin, the same material as her under slip, trimmed with silver set diamond chips. From the back of the headpiece, beginning at the midpoint of its widest section, a tulle veil cascaded out over her black hair, extending another foot or two below the ends of her locks, just covering her rump, trimmed in the same satin that coated the crown. "Face me," Arulan instructed. Once she was able to look away from Sarah's sparkling green eyes, the elf pulled just a small piece of hair to peek out from beneath the crown and frame the woman's face elegantly. Sniffling, she ran off to get the overlay. It was a heavy, but magnificent piece, not the same snowy white as the slip had been, but just the slightest hint of sliver, a wave woven into the fabric so that she looked like a rolling stream when she moved under the light. The sleeves hung to the middle of her full skirt, fluffed with several layers of crinoline tucked beneath her slip. Split to her elbow, banded there by white cord, the back portion was the same fabric as the petticoat, the front of the sleeve was about a foot and a half shorter and made of lace. Arulan began working at the silver cord which laced up the front of the dress and gave shape to her waist and bosom. Around her neck she fastened the diamond necklace and then crawled beneath her skirt to help her into the silver slippers she would walk toward Jareth in.

Grabbing her by the shoulders, Arulan reminded her for the thirtieth time how lovely she looked, how perfect everything would be and how proud she was to stand in as her witness before disappearing into the bath to ready herself for the event. Sarah turned left and right a time or two trying to see herself from as many angles as possible. It was a spectacular gown and though she'd disputed the crown, when she saw it all together, it fit perfectly.

So entranced by what was scheduled to take place in just thirty minutes, Sarah barely noticed the whirling dervish in the center of the sitting room. It was tinged red, trimmed in black and as the figure began to solidify you could make out the details of deep burgundy gown patterned with a charcoal grey box iron cross pattern. Gold cording highlighting the narrow waist and the elbows, where a matching velvet patch ran from two inches above to two inches below the joint leading down to narrow sleeves which only began to flare at mid-forearm and then plunged low for a dramatic flounce. The bodice had a velvet panel between the breasts. Every open edge of the dress was trimmed in opaque black lace.

Sarah blinked when she saw the second set of eyes in the mirror, the long dark curls framing the warm beige face she would never in her life forget. Turning quickly on one foot she gawked, "Leanan Sidhe."

"Do forgive the intrusion," she bowed. "If I had known I would be coming, I surely would have sent word ahead."

"Nonsense," Sarah said. "Yours is always a welcomed presence."

The Sidhe rose, stepping cautiously toward the woman her son had planned to marry. Reaching up her tiny hand, she ran the back of her long fingers down the side of Sarah's face. "Such a beautiful peach he picked."

Gasping at the feel of her touch, Sarah stepped back. "I can feel you," she exclaimed. "How...how is that possible?"

Here the Sidhe laughed some, for it was all so strange to her as well. "The Supreme One has given me this day to make up to my son for a lifetime of pain and neglect. For today I will seem fully fey, tangible in every way, but only for today and without the benefit of magic of course."

Warily she reached for the woman's hair feeling its silky texture before reaching for the dress, soft and velvety. "Does Jareth know?"

The Sidhe shook her head, "I thought we would surprise him," she smiled. "I wanted to ask first if I had your permission to attend, for I have not been my most kind to you and for that I am sorry. You truly are a rare find, capable of loving my son as I was never able. I wish you only the best and I assure you I will cause no problem at your ceremony for it was made abundantly clear to me that should I step out of line for even an instant my privileges would be revoked." Tears filled her eyes, "I only wish to dance once with my son, to hold him and be held by him on this, his happiest of days and I shall rest forever more in peace. I vow it to you."

Pulling the pain soaked Sidhe into her arms, Sarah's tears rained into her hair and even Jareth's mother could not hold back the drops which fell from her eyes. "Of course," Sarah told her earnestly, "of course you may attend and I pray you'll stay as long as you are able."

Leanan Sidhe ran her hands along the fabric of the wedding dress which covered Sarah's frame. The touch of the fabric, the rise and fall of the girl's rib, the course grate of the veil all magic to her, all the sweet things of life, but it was the pounding heart that beat against the phantom's empty chest which brought her the most comfort, for it had been many years since she were able to feel the comfort of love.

"One last thing," she told the bride to be. "These belonged to Ian and me," holding out two silver bands engraved with a Celtic pattern. "I'd like them to be yours and Jareth's now."

Sarah took the bands, "They're lovely," she whispered. "We'd be proud to wear them, but Deverell already has the rings and I'm sure he and Jareth are together."

"A little magic ought to do the trick," the Sidhe winked.

Winking back, Sarah cast a spell. Deverell felt the heat of the magic in his interior breast pocket, but when he glanced in to find two shining circles he never bothered to check the patterns and shrugged off the whole disruption.

Arulan emerged from the bath draped in a simple navy satin gown, corded at the waist and left loose so that it did not accentuate her curves, the sleeves dipped nearly to the hem, the shoulders and the neck line trimmed in a simple cream fabric bearing a matching navy embroidery to add a touch of elegance to the gown. Immediately she fell to one knee in a gasp, "Queen mum," she cried.

The Sidhe ran to her quickly, lifting her from her humble position and looking at her with total seriousness. "Arulan, all these years my son has been left to your care," the elf waited nervously to hear more, "you have done a fine job with him and I am eternally in your debt." Her crimson lips pressed against the pale cheek of Jareth's nurse maid."

"'Twas an honor to raise the king mum, but if I may ask, how is it you're here? I thought you were nothing more than ash and spirit, pardon my saying."

"I am, as you say, nothing more than ash and spirit, but the Supreme One, with his often undeserved generosity, has given me this day to share with my son all the love I kept from him during my life and it pleases me immensely to see that I have so many others to share the day with who, no offense intended, I had not thought of when I dreamt of sharing my son's wedding day."

Tears in her eyes, Arulan grabbed the Sidhe for one more embrace, "Bless the Supreme One mum, having you here will make today all the more special."

"I always thought well of you," she whispered into the golden hairs pressed against her cheek.

"Aye mum, and I of you."

"Otherwise," Leanan Sidhe continued, "I would not have left you the only thing I have ever unselfishly loved." Removing herself from the embrace, the Sidhe stiffened her back. "Enough, I have come to be reminded of all that is lovely here, not to relive heartaches of the past. Let us board the carriage for the grounds, let us celebrate the future."

The Sidhe helped Sarah into the carriage first, as Arulan managed her train and balanced her bouquet. "Here, watch where yer sittin'!" a gruff voice called.

"Hoggle!" Sarah called out. "What are you doing in the carriage?"

"'Parently, you can't walk twenty five feet on yer own. I'm sup'posta help ya." He was nonchalant about it, but Sarah knew it was only to keep himself composed.

"You mean you're going to walk me down the aisle? You're going to give me away?" Sarah's eyes were filled with tears again.

Arulan popped into the coach beside her in time to hear Hoggle's reply. "I'll walk you down that aisle," he promised, "but I ain't never gonna give you away." The sincerity in his words made her chest feel hollow and she watched on in awe as Sarah scooped him into her arms.

Hoggle sat back as the Sidhe entered the coach, pardoning himself, still flustered by his exchange with the bride to be. When his wide eyes cleared enough to properly view the guest, he went stark white and drew a breath. "Do you all see her? Do you? I can't be seein' what I think I'm seein'." He shut his eyes tight. "It ain't the queen," he chanted.

The Sidhe snatched him up in her long fingers, blood red nails more pronounced against his paled flesh, "Why Higgle, don't tell me you're frightened of me?"

"I am, I am, I am," he sputtered, but the women about him all laughed madly. Hearing the uproarious guffaws, Hoggle quieted. "Somebody better start talkin'," he grumped as he crossed his arms tight over his chest and slammed back against the seat. As Chataigne and Stardust, both dressed in their formal royal accouterments, broke into a trot, Arulan explained the queen's presence. Hoggle's tiny hands grabbed the sides of his shaking head, "If I live here for a thousand more years I'll never understand this place, or the women in it!"

When they were still a hundred feet away, Sarah watched as the Cleric and his holy servants approached the alter. Each row of seats ended with a pedestal of phlox, a flower meant to represent souls uniting and arching above the alter was a trellis of ivy laced with violets. "Ivy," the Sidhe told Sarah, "are a symbol of wedded love and fidelity and the violets, which I carried on my own wedding day, symbolize the taking of a chance at happiness." Their rich purple was a brilliant contrast to the bright yellow daffodils in Sarah's bouquet. She had chosen them herself, long stemmed yellow daffodils, outlined by the variety with a white skirt and all tied with the satin bow made from Arulan's dress fabric. Meant to say to Jareth as she stood by his side, 'You are my only one.'

Quickly Sarah felt at her neck and her ears for her mother's diamonds and just under the gathers of her left sleeve was her grandmother's handkerchief. Everything was in order. She felt prepared, that was until the music began to play and Jareth began to stride down the aisle. In all the preparing they had done, she hadn't thought about what he would be wearing. From head to toe he wore white. His hair tinged blue to match the navy in Arulan's gown. His boots bearing the family crest in gold, calf high on the outsides. His breeches rising up his incredibly long legs and consuming the tail of a flouncy white painter's shirt. Prominently around his neck he wore his crest and his broad shoulders were well squared by a fine cape with a golden owl embroidered on it's back, just peeking from beneath the tail of the cape was the tip of his great grandfather's sword. It was perhaps the most magnificent Sarah had ever seen him.

In his shadow walked Deverell and as they passed the congregation knelt. Left and right, Jareth made subtle gestures with his hands indicating they were free to rise. When he reached the alter he turned, Deverell still just over his left shoulder. Though they were still too far away to make out and distinguishing characteristics, Sarah's newly acquired fey senses told her there was a look of nervousness upon his handsome face, but none, she thought, so great as was on her own.

The carriage loomed ever closer to the end of the aisle, Sarah could see Sarah One, a tiny wicker basket in her hand, reaching inside and tossing a splash of red rose petals on to the blush colored runner which designated the aisle. Well not so much tossing them onto the runner, but tossing them up in to the air and then laughing and dancing in their shower as they fell. To her right, a slightly less enthusiastic, Balmek, tossed out handfuls of white petals which landed in clumps. By the time they had reached the center, he was seven rows ahead of his partner, eager to finish this walk and scamper into is seat between his parents.

"Are you ready then sweet child?" the Sidhe asked when the horses halted.

Sarah smiled at her with vast admiration, "I should be asking that of you."

"Indeed," she said sharing the same look her son often gave the ex-mortal. With a hefty sigh, she gathered the bottom of her gown and prepared to step out.

"Allow me," Hoggle said proudly as he hurried out of the carriage door.

Inside the Sidhe staled and Sarah watched as the nervousness on Jareth's face grew exponentially. "Do something," Sarah nudged Arulan who then exited the carriage and stood to the left of the step up. "Go on," Sarah encouraged the Sidhe. "Your son is waiting for you."

As if that were the precise encouragement she had needed, Leanan Sidhe rose from her seat and popped her head out of the carriage door. Before her feet had touched the ground, the entire collection of guests let out a cumulative gasp and hit the ground. "Get up," she commanded them. "I am no longer," and she could have easily stopped at that, but after a small pause, she went on, "no longer your queen. You have but one ruler, one real king," and here she looked at her son, whose strong composure kept him from charging down the aisle to his mother's arms. Her thin fingers rose to her lips and threw a kiss in Jareth's direction. Moments later he felt the warm press of her lips against his cheek.

The Sage rushed to her side and lead the Sidhe down the aisle where she sat safely between the two members of the Triumvirate not actively involved in the ceremony. Arulan then walked down the aisle and took her spot opposite Deverell.

When the music changed, Sarah recognized her cue immediately. It wasn't hard to distinguish the familiar sound of the bard they had met in the northwest sector when they first journeyed to the Triumvirate. Sarah eased out of the carriage door, taking Hoggle's hand and staring out over the crowd as she descended the step.

From the moment her head first rose, Jareth locked eyes on his bride. She was perfection from every angle, the look of her, the cut of her gown, the curl of her hair, and the flowers that she had chosen, spoke their message as clearly as the words of his wedding song to her, still playing in the background.

Squeezing her fingers, the tiny dwarf at her feet looked up, "You sure this is what you want?" he asked before they started down the aisle.

"Positive," she reassured him and off they went. The guests rose as she passed and stayed on their feet.

From the far back corner of the bride's side, a great beast rose. Perched upon his shoulder sat a noble fox. "Sar - rah pretty," Ludo roared.

Didymus was bound to agree, "Yes, yes, quite lovely, quite."

All around her Sarah looked at the smiling faces and the weeping eyes. Sarah had reached the alter. Hoggle gave her hand over to Jareth not too nonchalantly giving him a criticizing look.

The newly made Representative took his seat with his wife and child, beside them a thick pillow upon which Winston and Jena watched the ceremony. Jareth took her hand, kissing the back gently. "You're stunning," he whispered.

It was as he complemented her that Sarah noticed his face, the gold flecks upon his eyelids that brought out the blue of his eyes, the liner on the edge of his lids that drew the focus of her stare, the light gloss which made her want to kiss his lips right then and there. She watched the tears form in his eyes and fought back her own.

They turned to face the Cleric. The bard's strong voice brought out creatures of all types to settle on the Labyrinth's walls, scatter along the hills and scurry into trees, all doing their best for a small peek at the festivities.

The last notes of the guitar faded before the Cleric spoke. "Ladies and gentlemen of the Underground, royals and commoners alike, we're gathered here today to witness the union of Jareth, Goblin King of the Underground, to Sarah." Her last name was omitted as was a former mortal affiliation. Those things were her past and this was her future. "If anyone here has any objection to make with respect to the union of these two, let them make their grievance public at this time." Eyes burned onto the Gavel waiting for some horrid response, but none came. "Sarah and Jareth culminate today a love which began sixteen years ago in a sense of reality, but spiritually it began generations before. Their journey has gone full circle. They have left each other to fly free as birds and yet they have found themselves drawn inexplicably to the same nest, to the familiarity of one another's closeness. They leave behind the loves of their past, leave behinds friends, families and all the nay sayers who doubted the success they have proven to be. They have nursed each other through illness and defended each other with their lives. Their testament to love and to one another is the thing of great tales to be told at fairy rings for centuries to come. It is their sincerest wish to prove their commitment by sharing aloud with you today their promises to one another."

"Sarah," Jareth spoke softly, "I have loved you for as long as I have known the meaning of the word. When you left me, you tore apart my world and every day between then and your return Underground, I vowed that if the Supreme One were to bring you back to me, I would spend everyday making up for not making it clear to you then what my feelings were. My happiness, my life, my kingdom, are all dependent upon you." Tears welled in both their eyes as his stare grew more and more intense. "I promise you to spend all the rest of our days expressing to you clearly that my heart is yours to treat as you deem fit, my life is yours to command, my kingdom yours to rule. Each of the people here today has grown to love you and I have grown to love you as much as their collective hearts. I can only stand to love you more as the years tick on and I will remain your humble slave forever."

"Jareth," and here Sarah drew a deep breath to compose herself, "coming to the conclusion that the maddening mix of emotions I felt for you were in fact love was one of the most deeply soul searching ordeals of my life, but not because you were difficult to love. Rather because I wanted to be able to say, without doubt or pretense, that my love for you was as certain as the sunrise. To reach the conclusion that flutter in my chest, the quiver in my knee and lightness in my head was my love for you wrecking havoc on my body was the most rewarding of my life and before this realm's inhabitants I make you this promise. Your heart will be in secure hands when you rest it in my palms. Your life will be safe when you intrust it to me and your kingdom will mean as much to me as it has always to you. You have quite literally made me what I am today and for the rest of my days I will be trying to show you my thanks for that. You have given me my every wish, fulfilled my every dream and taught me the best of magics, your love, for that is truly the greatest magic I have ever known."

Even the Cleric at this point had to swallow back a lump risen in his throat. "There are to be rings."

"Yes, yes, I...uh...erm..." Deverell fumbled in his pocket for the rings before handing them to the Cleric, "Here you are."

Recognizing them immediately, the Cleric shot a clandestine glance at the Leanan Sidhe. "We ask the Supreme One to bless these rings as we ask him to bless the wearers of the rings and in respect for Sarah's former race's customs, I ask Jareth to take this ring, place it on the third finger of Sarah's left hand and repeat after me. I offer you this ring as a symbol of our love."

Jareth too recognized the ring, rolling it about in his palm before he lifted his bride's small fingers and placed the band as he had been instructed. "I offer you this ring as a symbol of our love."

"As a symbol of our fidelity."

"As a symbol of our fidelity."

"And with this ring I take you to be my lawfully wedded wife."

"And with this ring I take you to be my lawfully wedded wife."

"To have and to hold from this day forward."

"To have and to hold from this day forward."

"For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health."

"For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health."

"Til death do us part."

"Til death do us part."

The band slid easily into place on her finger and then it was her turn to accept the ring from the Cleric which only an hour earlier she had accepted from the Sidhe. Without quiver or choke she repeated all the words the Cleric gave her until the last statement, when the woman looked deep into the eyes of her husband and said definitively, "Forever." In case it could be misconstrued by anyone that something as paltry as death could stop their love. The Sidhe had taught her that.

"Very well," the Cleric said. "It is my sincerest pleasure to present this necklace to you, Sarah, Goblin Queen of the Underground." From the alter he lifted the necklace Jareth had given her for protection, the one the Sidhe had worn as queen. Stepping out around to Sarah's side, the Cleric held it to her neck and used his magic to unfasten it, draw the ends to her back, beneath her hair and veil and fastened them. "You may, if you so wish, kiss the bride Jareth; however, I'm sure there'd be no problem finding you a substitute if you're not feeling up to it."

Smiling broadly he swept his new bride into his arms, "There is nothing I feel more capable of doing. The kiss he gave her just then was not the polite publically acceptable kiss Sarah always imagined her wedding kiss would be but rather it was a deep and powerful romantic kiss that should have cast any unspoken doubt out of the mind of any attendee who had previously failed to speak. It certainly surpassed everything Sarah had imagined.

With the ceremony ended, there was nothing left to do, but for the happy couple to lead the march around to the gardens where a proper reception had been planned. Twink was there to announce the arrival of the new king and queen. There was more than enough for everyone to eat several helpings and the mead and wine barrels were rolled in as needed to accommodate the guests' thirst. Jareth and Sarah went cluster to cluster saying their hellos to the guests and answering the questions of the royals. As often as he could, the king sat with his mother, both saying the things they always wished they had. As often as possible, the Sidhe made some excuse to reach out for him, to touch his face or brush back his hair.

Ranofyr kept his distance, staying little longer than it took im to eat and waving from across the grounds as he took his leave.

"A permanent invitation to you both," Elbereth told them before leaving himself. "You're welcome at any time, together or separately, alone or with company, however many the number."

But it was Gandor who embraced them best. "Sarah, marriage suits you quite well. If it is possible,' he gathered up her hands, "you look even more lovely then when first we were introduced.

"Thank you," she blushed.

"And you, your majesty, 'tis no doubt you are most fortunate to have turned this eye and won this heart."

"Fortunate indeed," Jareth admitted. "May I thank you once more for the hospitality you have always extended to both of us."

Gandor took them into his massive arms, "Thank me by bringing your little ones to visit the workshops and play with the elves, that I may see the wonder in their eyes as once I saw in yours." The newlywed's faces hung. "It was your intention for children, was it not?" he asked upon noticing their expressions.

"Yes," Sarah told him with a weak smile, "that was our intention."

Cheers and shouts interrupted their fraternization, "Dance! Dance! Dance!" they requested.

"Your people are already making demands of you my queen, should we oblige them or tell them to piss off?" Jareth chided her.

"I think it best for realm relations if we oblige them," and then to play on his joke, she added, "just this once."

As her son held his new bride tenderly in his embrace, the Leanan Sidhe watched on. Tears streamed freely down her face as she watched them gliding across the garden, their eyes expressing more to one another than words ever could, their hands gripping each other's frame as if the idea that they could be torn from one another at any moment was still weighty on their minds. This was the greatest gift her life had ever brought her. Arulan's hand folded over hers, slipping a hanky between her long fingers. It was only then, the Sidhe even realized she had been crying. As the song ended the couple kissed, refusing to reign in their passions for one another and headed back toward Jareth's mother. Though she quickly tried to dry her eyes, Sarah easily saw the tracks beneath her eyes.

"Jareth," she whispered covertly into her husband's ear, "dance with your mother."

"As you wish," he replied, as he always did, as he always would. "Mother?" he asked extending his hand. She looked up at him like a school girl at her first big dance. "Dance with me? Dance with your son?" He clutched her unsteady hand and pulled her into his arms, lucky for her too, her knees were weaker than wet cardboard.

One by one, those on the dance floor took notice of the king dancing with his mother, they backed away until a ring formed around the couple. A thick ring which Sarah fought through so she could see her husband fiercely hold his one time tangible mother as she wept on his shoulder. "Thank you mother."

"Please don't thank me. I have never done anything to deserve your thanks or to deserve your love. I just consider myself fortunate to have them."

"You are more deserving than you give yourself credit for," he whispered to her, pressing his lips against her cheek.

She returned his kiss, her cheek wet against his. "I'm sorry I can't stay, can't be with you for all that lies ahead for you and the woman that you love, but know this, I will watch over you for all your days. Death cannot take a mother from her child. I will hear you when you call my name and when you speak to me I will listen. When you ask of me I will send my reply on the wind or write it in the stars, but I promise you I will always be nearby."

"And I will look for you mother, in all I do and everything I see, I will look for you."

"You have been an exceptional child." The Sidhe's eyes sought Sarah out of the crowd. "And you have chosen for your wife an exceptional woman. I wish you both exceptional happiness."

"I've heard you talk like this before mother."

"We knew my time here was not about to last forever."

Jareth's grip on her tightened and his head burrowed in his neck. "Mother, I beg you don't go."

Her hands cupped his face, "My son, I can never leave you, we are each other. You came from me and you will carry me with you all your days. Do not weep for what you lose this day, rather relish in what you gain. Much lies before you and to darken it with my shadow would bring me pain." She turned to summon Sarah as the music changed. The Sidhe linked hands with both of them. "Be here for one another, hold each other up if you fall, be strength to each others weakness. Thank you both for letting me share this day, for letting me share your lives and for breaking through to me even after I asked repeatedly to be left alone. You two are my legacy and I could not be more proud."

"The Supreme One was this kind to you, don't you think that if he knew, truly knew all you had been through in life, perhaps he would let you stay," Sarah suggested.

Leanan Sidhe turned to her with a wide smile. "My love, the Supreme One knows truly, the story of all our lives and that is why I've been given this chance. He knew my true heart could never hate my only child. Tonight he gave me the chance to set that straight. I could not ask him for anything more." She caught both their attentions with a tight grasp of their hands, "Learn this from me if nothing else my babies, you have but one life even if it lasts forever, don't waste it wondering what could have been, but live it dreaming of what can be."

It was after her parting words that she cast back from the newlyweds, her arms outstretched, a familiar white light filling her aura as her majestic voice filled the night. "The sun is sleeping quietly once upon a century. Wistful notions come and rid hardened caresses laid to rest. For my dreams I hold my life, for my wishes I behold my nights. The truth at the end of time, losing faith makes a crime. I wish that this night time could last for a life time. In darkness surround me, shows off all my sins, oh how I wish to go down with the sun, sleeping, weeping with you." Simultaneously, Sarah and Jareth fell to their knees as the Sidhe rose up from the ground her head thrown back and her lips still in contrast to her voice which continued to ring at them from all angles. "Sorrow has a human heart, for my god it will depart. I've sailed between a thousand moons never faulting where to go. Two hundred twenty two days of light will be desired by a night. A moment for a poet's pain, until there is nothing left to say, I wish for this night time to last for a lifetime. In darkness surround me, shows off all my sins." The whirling dervish which brought her to this realm, tore her from it, her love for her son and his new bride as obvious as the moon, "Oh how I wish to go down with the sun, sleeping, weeping with you."

Sarah clung to her husband there before their guests, before their loved ones and the Triumvirate who had formed a wall behind them and who had laid their hands on them in support.

Not wanting to dampen the festivities, Sarah and Jareth quickly put aside the strong feeling regarding him mother's departure, saving them for a private time when she could be properly grieved. Making that task easier was the fact that the Triumvirate had whisked them off to a corner of the garden where they had left their gift. The Sage covered Sarah's eyes and the Cleric covered the king's and the Gavel uncovered an ornamental sized tree, a Rowan tree, a graceful breed with grey brown bark found at altitudes of over one thousand feet. "We've brought it down from the mountain," the Gavel told them.

"This tree," the Sage added, "was sprouted out of a rock face, its seed left by a bird in a crevasse there. It has weathered much as have you two."

"And its legend of protective value is well known," the Cleric added. "It will ensure that no one will be able to bring harm again to your home."

"Thank you," Jareth said, shaking each of their hands.

When he extended his palm to the Gavel, the elder drew him close, "If I told you now that I had to test to you, had to be sure of both your feelings for each other, would you curse me?"

"I'd have cursed you for a lot less," Jareth chided him. "Let us heed my mother's warning and live for our tomorrows your highness."

"Agreed," the Gavel said reaching to include Sarah in their embrace.

Outside the party went on until every goblin lie passed out in the cobblestones of the city, but the bride and groom retired shortly after midnight to begin their honeymoon. Jareth had planned for them a week's stay at a mountain spot inhabited only by a few sprites who would be only too happy to serve the newest king and queen. Upon recommendation by the Cleric, they had gotten permission to stay, but that was to begin tomorrow. Tonight was more than enough anticipation to last them until then.

Alone at last, Sarah flung the head piece from her crown and sighed. "I thought they'd never let us leave."

Draping his long since undone cape over the back of one of the chairs, Jareth commented, "We're their king and queen Sarah, love, they have no pow..."

Before he could utter what she thought he was about to, his wife pinned her fingers over his lips, "Hush. I'm not taking any chances with those words ever again." She found herself quickly pulled into his embrace. "Beside, I think you know how much power you have over me."

"Likewise love, likewise." Jareth covered her lips with his wet mouth, kissing her passionately. "I feel as if I've waited for you all my life."

"In some ways, you have."

"True," he conceded. "Very true, but I mean to say this moment. To love you with no regard for consequence."

"Tell me was it a wait worth making?"

"Greatly," he sighed as his lips kneaded the tight skin of her neck. "Sarah," he said softly as he searched her hair for her perfect ears, "this is your first time as a fey, my love, and things will not be the same as they were before." She had guessed this already. The mere touch of his flesh to hers had felt electric and the few kisses they had shared that night had done their part to moisten the well hidden treasure between her thighs. "If I'm moving too fast, if you're feeling..."

Her fingers hushed him again, "Really husband, have you no better use for these lips then to make them flap endlessly?"

Spirit like hers was not easily made nor easily matched. To quiet her complaint, he snapped his fingers. In a flash what had been organized for her as a virginal bridal suite became hinted with little bits of what would prove to be a playful romantic adventure. The bed was suddenly thick with a layer of rose petals and peacock feathers and the candles were all dark reds giving the floor a warm and fiery glow. Champagne buckets on either night table and while she looked about vainly attempting to take it all in, Jareth scooped her up and sat her on the bed. The love they made that night was ignited with all the passions of the fey.

Sometime in the night they shuffled round, until Jareth was spooned behind her, his left hand fallen over hers, their wedding bands overlapping. Anyone watching, and let's pray to the Supreme One no one was, would have seen the unique glow the bands took on when they were so close together and even the slowest goblin would have been forced to draw the connection between the rings and the wearers of the rings, for the pale fey skin which had always been a trademark of the fey was now a healthy pink with the human flush of love.


	43. Chapter 42

**CHAPTER FORTY ONE - AFTER THE HONEYMOON**

As Gandor had said, marriage did suit the king and queen quite well, quite well indeed. Mornings began later, but the realm functioned more efficiently. The goblins continued with the educational program and by her third year of marriage, the queen was able to put into effect her dream of inviting unwanted, neglected and abused children to the Underground. Letters were left for the children's parents explaining to them that, without recourse, their children would be neatly collected, housed and cared for until such time as a suitable family situation was found. And all at no more cost to them than the utterance of a simple phrase. Likewise letters were left for families who were unable to have children asking them to call upon the king and queen in order to schedule an interview at which time their eligibility would be considered. Amazing care went into the interview process, including having goblins secretly observe the families for a reasonable amount of time prior to freeing the child from the oubliette where time stood still which had been handsomely converted to a nursery. But overall, it was worth the extra expanded energy each time Jareth and Sarah left a child in a home with parents who appreciated him or her.

Occasionally recipients failed to destroy these letters as the instruction said, and a few happened into the wrong hands and words got said which were not meant. A few copies of that handsomely bound red leather bound book were floating about and at times read by girls like Sarah had been. For those circumstances Jareth always had to issue the challenge to conquer the Labyrinth or surrender the child. There were those who rose to the challenge and others who did little more than shed tears, but the rules were what the rules were. While many things Underground continued to change, words still had great meaning and fey still had a reputation when it came to babies.

On the whole, life was easy. Over the years, only one thing grew more difficult for Sarah. Watching parents who had been blessed with children shirk all responsibility for their offspring, casting them aside like Christmas gifts which no longer stimulated their desires, laying hands upon them as if they were without feeling and worse kinds of abuse she still had to refuse to acknowledge for her own sanity. Each child they took reminded Sarah of the child she would never have and no greater pain had ever stabbed her heart. As were all things in the Underground, what the situation seemed to be was not always what it truly was.

Late on a Tuesday evening, Sarah and Jareth received simultaneous calls. One from a young babysitter who had managed to unintentionally wish away her employer's four month old baby girl and one from a home where a woman in her mid-thirties who had an abusive husband wanted to give away her baby boy because the husband beat the child. Naturally, Sarah left it to the king to take the accidental summoning. He had a better demeanor for dealing with the facts and matters of the situation. Likewise the queen was better suited for working with the ones who'd reached the decision voluntarily. Before they left the Underground for their Aboveground obligations, they engaged in a passionate kiss.

"I love you my darling," Jareth told her. "I believe in what you're doing for these children. That it causes you pain devastates me, but I find it would be hard to pick another gentle hand capable of doing what you do."

"I love you my king," she replied. Tears fell before she spoke even one more word. "I know what I do is worthwhile. I know they need me, but everyday I resent what the Triumvirate had made us sacrifice, but until I am reminded of all we have gained for it." Here she touched him gently on the arm. "You make me whole, even when I feel empty."

"Be safe love," he told Sarah before he left. She nodded to acknowledge his wish and then transported herself.

When she arrived in the Aboveground, she found herself in the middle of a shabbily set up apartment with a woman she could only suspect was the one who had summoned her. It took only a moment to see that the woman was crying as she sat at a fold out card table in the corner of a kitchen, her head down buried in the crook of her arm. When she looked up she saw the Goblin Queen. Sarah's look had changed rather a lot as queen. Her hair was fuller and more meticulously done, her eye make up more dramatic, touched with a hint of gold, sparkles on her eyelashes. Her gowns were still Elizabethan in nature, bell sleeves, long hem lines, tight waists, but they were darker, more like Jareth's in color and texture and about her neck always, was the crest.

"You're her aren't you?" the woman whimpered between sniffs. "You're the Goblin Queen."

Gracefully, Sarah bowed her head. "I am."

"Well, just take him. Take him from me and leave," she shouted.

"May I ask your name?" Sarah pressed, kneeling to her level.

Red, wet, puffy eyes took in the queen, the sincerity on her face, the genuine compassion in her eyes. None of which had ever been expected. "Ashley."

"Ashley," Sarah repeated, her hand stroking the woman's hair. "Tell me what's happened to bring you to this extreme."

This mother had anticipated someone more aggressive. A get it done and go personality whose only words would be those of condemnation. "Look, can't you just take him before I change my mind."

"I'm afraid there will be no changing your mind. My staff," the queen found it easier to refer to the goblins this way, "have already provided me with a thorough report to prove the child is in desperate need of removal, but part of what we like to do is to try and heal the parent about to separate from its child, if such a thing is possible. It is my belief that your reaction indicates that you can be healed."

"Healed? You feel like you can heal me? I have a perfect son, a beautiful seven month old baby boy and the only option that I have to keep him safe is to remove him from my home." Ashley's tears fell like rain, "Do you know what it's like to give up your child to keep him safe?"

"As a matter of fact," Sarah told her, "I know precisely what it's like. But what you must realize is that you're giving him a chance, not just giving him away. He'll be placed with a new family, one in which he'll flourish."

"How can you be sure?"

"My staff and I oversee all of our placements," Sarah confided.

Ashley wiped her eyes, suddenly beginning to feel trust in the woman who had come to rescue her little boy. Part of those feelings were generated by the queen's easy nature and the rest may have been her aura of magic at work. "Would you like to meet him?"

"Absolutely," Sarah said. She followed the mother down the hall to a back bedroom. Her fey senses made her alert to a few things immediately. All of the windows were closed and yet a windchime in the corner tinkled away. "Is that a mobile?" she asked.

"No, just a chime. We weren't really trying to get pregnant and so a lot of Freddie's things aren't really _for_ children."

It was true. Sarah noticed when she was told that, an alarm clock wrapped in a sock, placed in the crib and a stack of mismatched cloth scraps she was using for diapers. When she commented on the clock, Ashley explained she had seen the same thing done with puppies and small animals for comfort. Peering into the crib, Sarah couldn't see any signs of distress in the child. He seemed to be resting peacefully, breathing normally. The weight of the stare was enough to wake him and as he came to, the chimes stopped. Sarah focused on the tiny brown eyes that looked back at her, studying, searching, trying desperately to find evidence of what she expected.

"May I hold him?" she asked. Ashley consented and with little Freddie in her arms the queen asked quietly, her lips pressed to his ear as she inhaled his scent, "Make the chimes ring for me." Several seconds later they rang. Sarah walked him to the light, but the dilation fo his pupils did not change. "His eyes..." she began to ask, but Ashley interrupted.

"His father shakes him," she admitted. "He gets frustrated because he thinks Freddie gets into his things and he refuses to listen to me when I try to explain that he can barely crawl. As it is, the kid has to stay in his crib whenever my husband is home. Anyway, the doctors say the eye damage is caused by the shaking. That's when I knew I had to call you." She watched her son with Sarah for a few minutes, "You have a real way with him."

"I handle children all the time," she tried to reassure Ashley.

Shaking her head vehemently, the mother said emphatically, "No, it's not just how you handle him. It's how he's looking at you, responding to you. I've never seen him so alert."

Without explaining it to the mortal, Sarah knew it was their magics communicating even when their lips stayed still. What surprised her more than the interaction, was the fact that the mortal recognized it. In fact, the keen sense, put Sarah on edge. "Are you comfortable staying here?"

"Why?" Ashley asked, "Are you going to take me Underground with you?"

"I'm afraid that cannot be." Sarah's face grew white with worry, "Are you in danger?"

"I'm fine. He's not physical with me. He's just all talk."

Her senses told her the woman was being honest. "We should go then," Sarah told her, handing Freddie over for goodbyes.

"My sweet boy. Be good. Grow big and strong and have all the happiness I couldn't give you. Mommy loves you," her tears came then as she made her last admission, "no matter what you think, mommy has always and will always love you." Freddie cooed in his mother's arms and Sarah felt the room grow cold. "It's getting close to the time my husband comes home. You should be gone before he gets here." She handed Freddie back to Sarah and began to lead her out. "Goblin Queen?"

"Please, my name is Sarah."

"Sarah. I like that name," Ashley smiled for the first time. "Being that I am his mother, can I make a request for his adoption?"

"You may tell me what you wish, but I cannot guarantee I will be able to grant your wishes, nor am I at liberty to discuss your child's future with you once I leave."

"I understand, but I was thinking, if I could pick a mother for Freddie, well, I'd choose you." Sarah had no response. "You seem to understand him and he's taken to you so quickly. If you and the king don't have too many of your own, do you suppose you could take Freddie? I'd feel better knowing he was with you."

What was there to say to an inconsolable woman making the kind of sacrifice Ashley was making when all she asked was to have her son left with a familiar face, someone she could trust. Without thinking Sarah admitted, "The king and I have no children of our own."

"Then you'll take him!" She threw her arms about the queen. "You'll raise my son. Thank you, thank you!" Tears of joy replaced the stains of the ones that had been cried when Sarah arrived.

"I will do my best."

"Your best," Ashley looked at her confused. "But you're queen, don't you get to tell everybody else what to do?"

"Even a queen has her superiors. The program I run Underground is fairly progressive, this sort of thing has never been bridged before." Sarah's mind was working overtime, "But it would be a great privilege to raise this boy." She smiled at Freddie. "I will do everything in my power." Sarah lay a hand on Ashley's arm and they nodded in agreement to one another.

A key turned in the door and Ashley jumped, "Go now, before he sees you. Take good care of my boy." As quick as she came, Sarah disappeared, baby in tow.

The goblins were waiting for Sarah when she returned. "Your grace, the child?" they asked when she failed to speak.

"Huh?" Sarah was still somewhat disoriented by the exchange.

"Shall we take it to the nursery for you?"

"No, no," she told them. "I've made a special promise to the child's mother. He's to remain in my company his first night Underground."

"Aye mum," they agreed and scattered off.

Sarah and Freddie sat in the castle foyer. She made a crystal and gave it to him. He gazed deeply into it and smiled. She couldn't help but wonder what he saw. Then with a gentle touch well beyond his years, Freddie caused the crystal to levitate before him, clapping his hands at his own amusement. "You do have magic, don't you?" Sarah asked. Freddie wiggled his head madly, seeming to nod as though he understood her completely.

"Hello love," Jareth said as he popped in causing Sarah to gasp. "And who have we here?" he asked chucking Freddie's chin.

"He's our latest acquisition," Sarah explained, aware now of how cold that term truly was.

Jareth continued to fuss over the boy, fascinated by him even though he was physically no different than any other child they had collected. "Hear that? You're an acquisition. The mean old queen has no regard for your feelings does she? No she doesn't." Just then he noticed the crystal. "Sarah, put that thing away. He's obviously got no interest in it."

"I'm not doing it."

"Oh, would you have me believe he's doing it then?" Jareth turned his attentions to the baby once more scooping him from Sarah's lap. "Now she's blaming you for leaving crystals out. Isn't that the silliest thing..." Jareth struggled for a name. "How do they call you boy?" he wondered out loud. The crystal began to glow bright gold and wildly dance in the air. When again it came to rest the sky was ignited with lettering. The king read the word carefully. "Freddie. OK, so your name is Freddie. Well Freddie, how do you feel about being the brunt of blame for our que...en..." He stood up quickly, making his head feel even lighter. "Sarah," he chastised. "Did you do that?"

Sarah was busy pulling books from a shelf down the hall. When she heard him shout ,she returned to the foyer. "What are you blaming me for now?" Jareth only pointed. "Freddie? Yes, that's his name., Freddie." She said it as if it were nothing fantastic at all.

"Of course, one more question, how in the shaft of hands did he manage that?"

"I was trying to tell you. He has magic Jareth, mortal magic. He was terribly misunderstood in his world, abused, neglected. His mother ask that I take him away and she asked one other thing." Jareth didn't so much as blink wondering what that second request may be. "She asked that we raise him Jareth, raise him as our own." He stared at her, absorbing the situation, not comprehending any of the bits she was giving him. "It was the strangest thing. I could see it immediately, but the mortal was keener than most. She sensed right off there was an odd connection between me and her child, and his eyes..." Her words got speedier as Sarah continued to explain, "...look at his eyes. The doctors told her it was a result of the shaking, but Jareth it's something more. I'm telling you he's got magic."

"Us...raise...him," Jareth said slowly, more to savor the idea than to express his confusion by it, "but our promise to the Triumvirate."

"He is no child of our own, not our flesh, not our blood. Like any other child left here, he will be made a mythical, a full blood no less. The Triumvirate should be happy about that."

"Should be, but the Triumvirate is happy about very little when it comes to us, Sarah."

"We've moved passed all that wouldn't you say?"

"I would, but what if the Gavel would not?" he argued.

"Well I've got to try Jareth. I've got to," tears flooded her eyes as she went on. "He's a magic child and there aren't many mortal homes that will give him the patience and understanding he'll need. Of all people, I ought to know how cruel the mortal world would be to him."

Taking his wife into his arms he reassured her, "Love, there is nothing that would please me more than to give you this child, but the decision is not mine to make." He felt her sob against his chest. "I will send word to the Triumvirate immediately requesting a counsel, but I don't think you should get your hopes up."

In complete rebellion for his warning Sarah allowed her heart to soar. After all, a heart without hope may as well have been a heart without a beat.

The new workings of the Underground kept the Triumvirate very busy and despite Jareth's expressions of urgency, they replied to his request for counsel saying it would be ten days before they could meet. For ten days and ten nights, Freddie stayed with them. The couple played with him, saw to his feedings, his baths, his changes, all firsthand without employing a wet nurse or nanny. "Jareth," Arulan said after a week of observing them with the child, "a word if you please."

"Yes, Arulan."

"Son, I feel it my obligation to ask a question of you, but I fear you will find it a great offense rather than the deep concern it is meant to be."

"Ask what you will."

The elf sat with him, Freddie was balanced on his knee, a stuffed patchwork fiery in his hand. One of the two orange button eyes had been chewed off. "I'm afraid," she began, "you might be getting too attached to this wee one." Even Arulan couldn't resist him or the way he would smile at her when she handed him the napkin swans she was used to folding.

"I know he may not be ours forever, but he's ours for now. I'm perfectly ready to hand him over when the time comes," Jareth said staunchly.

Arulan brushed back a hair that covered his eye. "I said the same thing when I was given a young boy to care for. Trust me when I tell you I had far better reason to believe he would never be taken from me than you and have with young master Freddie. But years later when the day came I thought he would be taken from me and I had already hopelessly fallen in love with the child."

"You and I were together a far cry longer than ten days before mother returned," he smiled knowingly.

"So we were," Arulan conceded. "But it didn't take me ten minutes to fall in love with you Jareth and you look at this babe in the exact manner I once looked at you." Arulan stood, kissing first Freddie's crown and then Jareth's. "I do so pray they give you both the child you deserve, that they give him the parents he so desperately needs, but I worry so for your hearts if my prayers are not answered."

Jareth nodded as the elf excused herself. When she was in the hall, he pulled Freddie close. "You are the answer to a lot of prayers little man and I have never wanted so for my answer to be a correct one." His lips pressed to Freddie's forehead. Rather than return the affections of his surrogate, the baby grabbed the king's hair and pulled down sharply, giggling harder when Jareth winced.

Each night while Jareth readied for bed, Sarah knelt by Freddie's crib and prayed to the Supreme One as well as her mortal god to grant them this child to raise as if he were their own, but even with all of her faith, she couldn't help but wonder if it was too much to ask for a prince when she had already been given a king.

Joining her husband in bed, they would lie in one another's arms watching the child in his crib. Many nights he would amuse himself to sleep and for the most part slept a good number of consecutive hours. They both wondered how any set of mortal parents could be disturbed by him. "Have you thought about what we'll call him when he's ours?"

"Sarah," Jareth admonished.

"You have. Don't bother lying. I found the parchment in your office."

Caught, he confessed, "I will admit I have considered both my great uncle's name as well as my father's."

"Ian," Sarah said aloud. "Ian is the perfect name for him."

From the crib came two syllables separated by a great pause, "I...an, I...an."

"I think he likes it," Jareth observed. Sarah smiled, ever amazed at how far beyond his age the baby seemed to behave.

"So much trouble over such a little thing," Jareth groaned as they prepared to go before the Triumvirate. He watched Sarah change and dress the baby, gather his things, change him again and when at last they were prepared to go...he spit up on himself and required dressing still once more.

"Trouble well worth the effort," she added as they stood close together and prepared to transport to the mountain.

Looking at the joy on his wife's face he agreed.

"I know why you've come," the Gavel said when they entered, "and be it a tragedy, it is nonetheless beyond your control."

Turning to face the trio, Jareth and Sarah shared a puzzled expression which spread to the Gavel's face as he observed the child in their arms. "What tragedy?" the king asked.

"You're not here for Tiberon are you?" the Sage asked, innocently revealing more than he meant to.

"Tiberon?" Sarah asked.

It was the Cleric who replied, "Don't worry child. He is far beyond able to hurt you now. His fate has been decided."

The queen continued to eye him warily, waiting for some news that would bring her the confidence the Cleric had. "How so?"

"He has passed," the Cleric explained. "It would seem the cries of the banshee drove him insane. In a fit of rage he leapt from the cliffs, into the waters beneath, where the weight of his irons held him under and his lack of magic prevented his escape until his demise."

Sarah swung her head into her husband's chest. "No one deserves to die like that," she cried.

"As I said," the Gavel repeated. "Tragic indeed, but more so, beyond your control and you mustn't hold yourselves in any way responsible."

The king acknowledged his words with a nod, but clung to his wife no less, for her heart held to the responsibility the Gavel begged her to release. "While we thank you for the notice, Tiberon's unfortunate passing is not the reason for our visit."

"So I see," the Gavel pointed to Freddie. "What is it you ask for the child? A Christening?"

"Of sorts," Jareth admitted. The three sets of eyes focused on the royals as they retold Freddie's tale. How he had come to them, why they wanted to have him Christened, why they wanted to be the ones to raise him. "And so we feel a child with Freddie's exceptional talents would be far too misunderstood in the mortal realm to remain one of them. We realize it is fully presumptuous to ask to be his parents, but we both know the customs of his world and in our hearts, believe with earnest, free of malicious want or selfishness, we would best understand him as he continues to develop."

Looking at one another, the Triumvirate debated. "He would be fully fey under the rules of the Christening. Nothing human of him would remain, but his memories. His magic keeps us from erasing those," the Cleric said.

The Sage was more philosophical, "It would be a rather interesting experiment to follow."

Most mysterious of all, the Gavel said nothing, only took in what was being said by the others. When at some length they failed to keep up the conversation, he asked, "And your vow to us from years ago. The one you swore to keep you and the king from having children?"

"We are still unable to have a child of our own," Sarah reasoned. "I understand how an adoption would give us in name and in title a child, and while we would love him as if it were our own flesh, our own blood, he would not be. I would remain barren. The king would never have a true heir to the throne, a three quarter mortal to soil the bloodline, rather there would be a fully fey child, ready to assume the throne."

"You make a valid point milady," the Gavel agreed. "And not being one to argue with validity myself," he smirked. "The child's Christening shall take place this coming holiday at the usually scheduled hour."

"In exchange for?" Jareth asked.

"In exchange for nothing."

"Gavel, forgive my ignorance, but it is so unlike you to concede to one of our requests willingly and without an exchange of some sort."

"We must learn to change with the world around us your majesty, lest we be left behind by it. A wise king taught me that."

"Really, you must introduce me sometime." Jareth smiled, pulling his wife and child closer to him.

"You wouldn't get along. He's an arrogant one, he is."

Pursing his lips, the king sparred back, "I'm sure it's all part of his charm."

Back at the castle the reaction was explosive. Everyone had come to develop a splendid fondness for Freddie. To be told he would be staying was a great reward. Preparations for the occasion far exceeded what had been done for Sarah's Christening, but only because she herself had a hand in the planning. Perfectly dressed, the happy couple balanced the child between them as they awaited the arrival of the Triumvirate.

The exchange was traditional right up to the portion where the child was assigned to one of the Representatives. The four sector big wigs were in attendance, but they all knew they were no candidate for this child. Gandor and Hoggle beamed with joy for what they were about to witness, while Elbereth remained fairly neutral and Ranofyr seemed more bored than anything.

"Jareth and Sarah, in so much as you have made it known your intention to raise this child as your own," the Cleric began, "will you vow to the same publically today."

"We will," they said in unison.

"Then it is the decision of this Triumvirate that the child formally known as Freddie be Christened today, a full fey to be known by the name Ian." Across his forehead the Cleric spread oils and around his neck he hung a tiny emblem that matched the king's and queen's. "Welcome ladies and gentlemen, Prince Ian of the Underground." A soft light illuminated the child in Sarah's arms and his eyes began to lighten. The left grew wide and blue, the right remaining normal and green.

Pride filled the king as he raised his son for the spectators to see. "He's got my eyes," he told his wife.

"Correction love, he's got one of your eyes." Unabashed she kissed her husband and then with an equal disregard for their public displays they kissed their child. None who knew them well could control their emotions. Arulan, Drema, Hoggle, Winston, Jena, Ludo and Didymus just to name a few. But perhaps the most moved by the ceremony, was the Leanan Sidhe, whose tears fell from the heavens in a fine mist as Jareth and Sarah wrapped a blanket over their infant child. And so the couple that seemed forever unable to bear a child, proved once again that nothing here was as it seemed.

Ian brought new challenges to the king who had only temporarily cared for children until him. Not an easy one to rouse from sleep, Sarah took care of the middle of the night feedings and Jareth compensated by allowing her to sleep in. All the tasks otherwise afforded to the goblins, the diaper changes, the bathing, the general amusement, Arulan helped him gain a knack for. He marveled at his wife's easy way with children, and though he knew she had a rather large hand in raising Toby, it still made him go soft when he watched her with their child.

As they promised Gandor, he was frequently taken to the Southwest sector to visit. The Representative took great joy in him and it seemed he was always on Santa's nice, yet wildly mischievous, list, not unlike his father. The poor elves who engaged in follies with him were often so exhausted when he took his leave, they were sent to rest before returning to their shift, but clearly the realm bowed to the whims of it's newest prince.

In the garden Jareth watched them as Sarah told him about the flowers they grew and the Rowan tree. By age three he was able to maneuver some basic paths in the Labyrinth. By seven he loved to hide away in there and entertain himself with all the wondrous creatures. By ten he'd taken to tormenting them, which no one appreciated more than his father. Particularly when each time he called for his Uncle Hoggle he would mispronounce his name. He did well in school where Sarah One was fond of taking him about, forever reminding him she was named after his mother and her _advanced_ age meant he must obey her every whim, which he did. At times he followed her instructions begrudgingly, but as he often told his mother, "She's an engaging sort and someday I shall pitch her in the bog, but for now, I allow her to divert my attentions on occasion." Blood or not, he was his father's son.

Sarah hoped that no lasting relationship was forming between Ian and Hoggle's daughter for the oddness of their duality would trouble her, but Ian seemed confident their's was merely a symbiotic passing of time. Sarah One's attentions never seemed to focus on any one particular boy for long as she grew into a young woman, as most boys were fun to play with, some nice to look at, but rarely could they keep up with her bottomless hunger for knowledge and exploration. "They want to kiss" she shyly admitted to Sarah one day. "Can you imagine?" she asked screwing up her nose as though she'd been served a tray of insects.

Perhaps that in itself was the reason she and Ian got on so famously. He too loved to explore, whether it were imaginary fortresses built in the yard or remote corners of the Labyrinth, but most of all he wanted to go Aboveground. He'd heard marvelous things about it from the other children, how they knew Sarah could only imagine, but she had shown him his family in her crystals a time or two. As he grew older, Jareth pressed the subject with his wife. "If he is to ever assume my throne Sarah, he must learn to manage there."

"I know Jareth, but he is so very young and unaware." Her maternal instincts continued to submit that excuse well into Ian's fourth decade. Far from young and unaware, their son had completed his schooling and pursued the practice of magics. Jareth and Deverell taught him the workings of castle, some of it's history. Even those many years later the tale of Tiberon was a hard one to share. He'd dated socially among the other fey, but woman seemed to bore him. The king took very little concern in this matter. As with the prior four generations of his bloodline, the males did tend to put duty before love and he admired his son's ethics. Immortals had a lifetime to find love and he would as soon prefer Ian find the right woman even if it took forever than to bed the wrong one out of anxiousness.

The young prince had filled out nicely, grown as tall as his father, but fuller in stature, more like Deverell. Fey litheness had escaped him and he favored the human broadness of a mortal man. His hair was chestnut brown and as manicured as his parents' was. He did little to make up his eyes and it was for the best, his face did not lend to ornamentation. However, Ian did manage something no royal had done before. In an impetuous night of frolic with his friends he had the family crest tattooed on his lower back. He managed to hide it from his parents for months, but the entire realm knew. It made quite the impression on the ladies as it were when they caught him about and a bend at his waist would reveal the hint of India ink beneath the surface of his skin. His 'harmless art' caused quite a stir, but none fussed as much as the queen. As she ranted Jareth did his best to hide the smirk. Once when Ian rolled his eyes, the king cracked the back of his son's skull, reminding him to respect his mother. In the end they shared a good laugh over it.

Upon the 60th anniversary of his adoption, Sarah sat in awe of her child. By mortal standards he would've be an old man, well passed mid-life, but then she would have been dust in her old world. Still, he had been with her for so long and he was still so youthful, no harder looking than Jareth had been when they had met. She was glad of that. It meant his life had been a happy one, easy of stress. Jareth too had taken the years in stride. There may have been a few more white strands in his mane, the first hint of a wrinkle in his eye, but he was every stride the charismatic and handsome fey she had fallen in love with before knowing the meaning of the word. Were you to ask the king, he would equally praise his wife's weathering of years, though Sarah, as most woman do, found flaw in herself that others would easily overlook.

One afternoon, she sat painting by a window in one of the drawing rooms as her husband and son battled over a chess board. "Checkmate father! Checkmate!" she heard Ian cry.

"Impossible!"

"No father, checkmate. In all my years I've never beaten you, but by the Supreme One today is my day!" Ian left the table, "Mother, you must see this," her son pulled on her arm. "Come have a look."

Eyeing the board, Sarah only confirmed what Jareth would have liked to continue to deny. "I'm afraid it is checkmate my dear. That may be the first loss you've had in..."

"Over 300 years," the king mopped. Arrogance having gotten the better of him, Jareth went to the window to pout. There he observed Sarah's unfinished work. A portrait of the king and his son engaged intently over the board. Like a snapshot Sarah had captured all their intensity, all their similarity and it melted the king's heart. "But if I must lose, I'm happy it could be to my son." Approaching the boy, Jareth grabbed his elbow firmly, congratulating his son as he returned the hold on his father. Then pulling him close he held him in a warm embrace and patted his back firmly.

Breaking his father's hold, a hint of his immaturity slipping through, Ian beamed, "I must tell Deverell. Excuse me father." He bowed to the king and kissing the queen quickly on the cheek he added, "Excuse me mother." His cries for the king's assistant echoed as he ran.

"I've finally gotten old," Jareth sulked as Sarah ran to his arms to support him.

"You've not gotten old."

"No love I have, I really have. That's my first loss in over 300 years."

Coyly she pointed out, "Well not your first loss."

"You too?"

"Sorry," she smiled. Then taking his hands into hers, a familiar glint in her eye she begged of her husband, "Come with me my king, and I shall engage you in as challenging an exchange as you have ever had, which I shall gleefully allow you to dominate."

Heels clicking as he kept a quick pace behind her, countering her offer by warning his bride, "All these years together and I'm still amused by the fact you feel you need to allow me to do anything." The giggle that preceded her every footfall was all the aphrodisiac he needed.

As Sarah lie her head upon the king's chest, listening to his heart slow from its erratic pace, she was entranced at how amazing more than half a century of making love to the same man was. They still excited one another, still found new things to try and still loved each other so passionately their physical expression seemed natural. "Love," she asked as his fingers trolled through her dampened hair, "have you thought about the day when Ian takes the throne."

"I have, but I imagined it would be quite a way off. Had you other ideas?"

"We have raised a fine son," she told him.

Jareth smiled, "Indeed we have."

"I suppose I imagined we would reward ourselves by giving him the throne while we were still virile enough to enjoy these kinds of activities." Sarah's hand rubbed at his chest.

"But without a kingdom to rule, what will I do with forever?" Jareth questioned his wife.

Propping on her elbow, Sarah looked into his mismatched eyes, tracing the distinctive features of his face and proposed, "Fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave."

"Now there's something we have yet to try," the king wagged his brows as his mouth twisted into a devilish grin and he claimed his wife for the second time that afternoon.

Educating his son in the ways of the mortals proved easy enough for Jareth. Ian took a real liking to the Aboveground, fascinated by all he stood to discover there. Emotionally he had become a winning combination of his father's arrogance and his mother's sensitivities, yet wise enough to know when to effect one or the other. Their only concern in handing over the kingdom to their son was his lack of a spouse to assist in managing the large number of children now passing through the Underground regularly. This was resolved, easily enough, by allowing Arulan to take over more and more of the duties involving the children until they became her full time concern and a new house elf was brought in to serve the prince. The package neatly assembled, it was announced there would be a masquerade upon Ian's 75th birthday at which time he would assume the throne and the former king and queen would retire to a modest, that is to say by Jareth's standards and in comparison to the castle modest, lodging provided by Elbereth in the Northwest sector where they would still be available for any guidance their son required.

The turn out for the festivities was remarkable and among the most honored guests, the former king and Jareth's great grandfather, Oberon who made it a special point to telling the soon to be retired king how proud he was. "Not only have you changed the realm for the better, but you have changed the minds and the hearts of its inhabitants. You have brought tolerance and equality back to our world Jareth. You honor my first born son and for this, I honor you." Oberon knelt before him.

Ashamed to think of his grandfather, one of the Underground's greatest contributors kneeling in the dirt, Jareth raised the man to standing and embraced him. "You don't know how that touches me," he told the elder. "I have always hated what was done to my great uncle and to know you feel I've honored him is the finest compliment you could pay me, but I must say, without my wife, I couldn't have done any of this. I was dead inside until she returned to me."

"And that is the real magic, the magic that was lost from this castle when Corwyn was slain. Be good to one another, all your days," he told Jareth. "And most importantly, treat her as if she were a queen, even when you leave this castle."

"Well understood, sir," Jareth chuckled. "I'm sure she'll not allow me to have it any other way." His retort caused Oberon to chuckle as well.

Across the crowd, Sarah looked on at them talking, pleased that their hearts had mended to this point, where Corwyn could be so openly discussed without pain or animosity.

Oberon was still handsome, even at his age, especially in his masquerade garb. He wore a cream suit, hinted in gold. His mask was simple and white, strapped to his head, leaving his hands free. The mask covered any age which shown on his face and his snowy white hair, not an uncommon color among even the younger fey, was neatly tied into a pony tail. He easily could have passed for a man centuries younger than he was. Sarah smiled to herself as she thought about the old wive's tale about looking at a woman's mother to see how she would age. If there was any truth to them at all, she had married wisely indeed.

Jareth's frock coat was a glittering emerald green, which he wore with emerald tights and high black leather boots. From a long pole a toothy skeletal mask could be raised to his face where his green tinted blond tufts hung across it. Putting the mask in place, he locked eyes with his wife and smiled devilishly at her. As lovely as she was at their first ball, Sarah had managed to grow even more lovely at every subsequent festivity.

Her dress was just a shade lighter than his coat, the waist tight, the collar high. Bell sleeves had been cast aside for a diamond cut bodice that accentuated her bosom and bared her shoulders, matching gloves rose just above her elbows. From behind a feathery bird beaked mask, which she lowered and raised every time she caught Jareth looking her way, Sarah would repeatedly drop her eyes and lift only the lids slowly until she caught her husband's stare and then blushing innocently, or not so innocently depending upon your interpretation, quickly replace the mask to conceal her identity.

Their continued rounds of cat and mouse left Sarah feeling flush. Combined with the overwhelming idea of her son becoming king, it was enough to force her outside to the garden. Sitting quietly on the wrought iron two-seater beneath the Rowan tree, she summoned a gentle breeze to kiss her skin. Though his approach was silent, Sarah was well aware of the company which joined her in the night air. "Could you ever love a man who was once very powerful, but who gave it all up just to be yours?"

"I'm sorry," she said seriously, keeping with the idea that she didn't recognize the masked man whose tender lips slid over her bare shoulders. "I cannot love you." Jareth grew serious himself then, for those words had not been said by his love in all their years. "I love another," the queen quickly confirmed. Plucking a daisy from along the garden walk, Sarah plucked each petal as she extolled the virtues of the man she loved. "He is and always will be powerful to me. He is kind. He is gentle. He has been a good king. He has raised a fine son. He is well liked. Admired. Other women seek him, but his heart belongs only to his wife."

"Ah, it is a married man who holds your eye?"

"Aye," she breathed heavily.

Jareth was intrigued by her game now. Even in the generated breeze he could see her flush extended down her throat and over the swell of her bust. "And what says his wife of your affections?"

"She knows my intentions with her man."

"Why she must be infuriated with you."

"Her way is one of carelessness for though she knows full well what I desire, she does nothing to stop me. Neigh, she encourages me to pursue him."

"Hell you say," Jareth purred back to his wife. Her low throaty sound enticing him as she continued on in her role.

"In earnest, sir, I confide to you now, hers is not a loving way and she would much rather I," and here she met his gaze intently, even through his mask, "succumb to his consorts."

Without hesitation, Jareth grasped her legs behind the knee and crossed them with his own, pulling her close. "I can see where one might be inclined to leave ardent activities to a woman like you. Your passion is as evident as the nose upon your face."

Leaning in to kiss her, Sarah reached to move the mask from his eyes. "Why do you indulge these silly games?" she asked in mock anger.

"Because my wife, upon occasion it is my fondest wish to hear you speak of me as though I were not here, to consume the words that flutter up from your heart rather than be distracted by those which from your lips can sometimes fall."

"Might I assure you, my husband, the words would be identical regardless of their origin or path. Long ago I learned there was but one way to love you and that is with all that I am. I know no other way."

Done in by her at this point, refusing to wait another second to taste the honey of her kiss, Jareth dipped to her ear. His hot breath still sent chills into her spine. "Then love, might I suggest you allow your heart to speak and save your lips for something more beneficial to us both."

Engaging him in a hungry exchange, Sarah easily forgot where they were and how many guests they had in attendance, until they heard, "Honestly! You two are an embarrassment. I shall be king in a few short hours and the subjects will no doubt mock me for the impassioned teenagers I call my parents and there never ending open displays of affection." All said in Ian's broadest smile for he was quite proud of what his mother and father shared. Quite proud that out of all the children they had cared for, he was chosen to be theirs.

"Love is not an affection to be hidden," his mother told him as she composed herself.

Jareth agreed. "Indeed son, 'tis the bold sort of thing which should be shouted from the rooftops and written in the sky. Someday I hope, no I wish, that kind of love for you." Embracing their son, the king and queen returned to the festivities to ready themselves and the prince for his coronation.


	44. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

Settled into the Northwest sector, Sarah and Jareth fell easily into life without a castle and several hundred goblins milling about. Ian served as a fine king and those who Jareth had left him with served the son as finely as they had the father. The Underground was functioning at an amazing rate, filled with life and vegetation. Its people fulfilled and satisfied. Runners of the gauntlet had become almost unheard of, but every now and again, Ian would slip away Aboveground to explore the things which had intrigued him so during his visits with his father. Thus it should have come as no surprise when Arulan first began to notice his distraction from his duties. In fact, it should have been plain to Deverell when more and more fell to him as the new king spent afternoons scribbling in the royal journal and staring out the window at the world. But they remained ignorant.

With none to guess, he gave himself away when, during a visit with his father, they sat motionless above the chess board. "It's your move son."

"Are you certain?"

"Aye, and have been for nearly an hour now. I give credit to your concentration, but at what point should I begin to confuse it for distraction?"

"Long before you arrived I'm afraid."

"So I thought. Tell me what's taken your every thought away son?"

Breathing deeply and squaring his shoulders, Ian admitted, "Father, I am in love." Jareth eyed him quizzically for this was the first he had heard of the notion from his son's lips. "The sky written, mountain shouted kind you wished for me to find."

"I see," his father said. "And where have you found such deep emotions?"

"I didn't. They found me." Ian was fascinated by how it had happened, really. He'd been doing nothing extraordinary, nothing new or different. Only keeping course with his regular habits and he had stumbled upon a woman who filled his heart to bursting. "It's as if I went walking in the forest, kicked over a stone and beneath it discovered heaven."

"Is she a royal son?" Jareth asked. Intrigued himself now as he listened to his child.

"She shall be when I marry her."

"Ah, a commoner then? Elf, fey, tell me of this beauty. Or is it that her beauty is in her simplicity, as was your mother's when first I discovered her?"

Smiling he confided. "She is much like mother, only her hair is the color of spun gold and her eyes are dark, nearly black, which is an unusual combination to say the least. Her skin is pink, a rosy blush from the tips of her fingers to the ends of her toes." Forgetting himself he described her more personally than he had intended. "And her lips, her lips are like an untouched bud, perpetually pursed, waiting for morning's dew to draw them into bloom."

"How long have you know this woman?"

"A lifetime and yet, sadly, I know nothing more than her name. Her people call her Wynn, but her name does her no justice. She is beauty. She is grace. She is the wind, for when I chase her she constantly alludes me by staying just beyond my reach."

"A sprite, then."

"No father. She is a mortal girl."

For a moment he reacted as his grandfather had when his mother had met her love, as the Triumvirate had reacted to he and Sarah, but when senses got the better of him he asked, "And this mortal girl, does she return these affections that you have for her?"

"Wynn refuses to admit how her heart feels and would as easily cast me aside as a thorn from her finger when she picks roses in her father's garden, but she loves me father. Of this I am certain."

Warily, he continued to question his child, "How are you certain? What makes you so sure?"

"Because father, I gave her a bit of my magic and she accepted it. The smallest piece, the tiniest seed. Someday that seed will be watered by the tears of knowing none can please her heart but me and then all she need to do is ask and I will come to her."

Hiding his laughter behind his hand, Jareth marveled at how alike he and his son had become, though they shared no blood, no formal ties. It was as if this child had been born for them. And in that moment, he recalled the way he had returned to the Underground in what seemed now like it had been another life. He sought the counsel of the Cleric and himself admitted. "I have wanted her since I knew her soul and the Supreme One means for me to have her by giving her soul a form. What form matters little to me." Only to be questioned as to how I knew her feelings would be reciprocated, to which Jareth confidently replied. "I have given her certain powers and when she is prepared for me, she will call."


End file.
